


A New Menace | A Voltron Fanfiction

by EleanoraMcKogane



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Cuban Lance (Voltron), Gay Keith (Voltron), Hunk & Lance (Voltron) Friendship, Hunk & Pidge | Katie Holt Friendship, Hunk (Voltron) is a Good Friend, Hunk (Voltron) is so Pure, Hunk (Voltron)-centric, Hurt Keith (Voltron), Hurt Lance (Voltron), Insecure Lance (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) Angst, Keith/Lance (Voltron) Angst, Krolia (Voltron) is a Good Parent, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron)-centric, Langst, Mentioned Coran (Voltron), Minor Acxa/Veronica (Voltron), Minor James Griffin/Keith (Voltron), Multi, POV Multiple, Pidge | Katie Holt is Savage, Pidge | Katie Holt-centric, Protective Krolia (Voltron), Protective Shiro (Voltron), Sad Shiro (Voltron), Sassy Pidge | Katie Holt, Shiro (Voltron)-centric, Socially Awkward Keith (Voltron), Space Dad Shiro (Voltron), Space Uncle Coran (Voltron), Supportive Krolia (Voltron), kangst, klangst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-05 15:26:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 23,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17921435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EleanoraMcKogane/pseuds/EleanoraMcKogane
Summary: Peace was never an option for the Galra.A new threat is rising in the universe and the Lions of Voltron are nowhere to be found, lost somewhere in the vastness of space and without Princess Allura to help locate them, hope is fading.With so many lives at risk, the paladins have to try to learn how to help without Voltron while trying to find its whereabouts. What they don't know is that the Galra know how to find the Lions and their plan is already on the move.Can the paladins find the Lions in time to stop the Galra from plunging the entire universe in darkness?Notes:Still writing and I have no idea where this story is going. But I hope you'll like it. Also, warning for Klance fluffiness :)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm publishing all my work on Wattpad and FanFiction.net as well.

The alarm suddenly rang loud and relentlessly through the metallic and spotless hallways of the IGF-Atlas startling the crew for a few stunned seconds. Then a shock of realisation swept through them as they hasted their footsteps to their posts, their hearts pounding within their chests as fear and trepidation surged in mingled with a particular kind of fearful adrenaline.

Shiro ran through the halls rapidly as he buttoned his uniform coat, the crewmembers hurriedly shrinking against the walls as their Captain yelled at them to move.

He approached the bridge, the door sliding open as he entered.

The commotion within was frantic; raised voices shouting at each other instructions above the continuous loud noise of the alarm.

"What's going on? Are we under attack?" Shiro panted as he stood in his station in a fierce stance and his eyes took on the several orange screens. He noticed a large red triangle in one of them and his heart gave a brief somersault of panic.

"It's a Galra ship sir," Veronica replied hastily. She looked briefly over her shoulder to acknowledge her Captain. "But it's not attacking us. Actually, it's not doing anything."

"Don't jinx it," Iverson added without humour in his hoarse tone.

"Any sign of fighter jets?" Shiro enquired as he studied the screens.

He could see the smaller Galran ship suspended in the air, menacing and portentous and he felt the familiar dread slowly creeping through his veins.

"No sir," Veronica replied.

"Okay," Shiro took a shakily deep breath and ran a hand through his grey hair, his mind reeling with thoughts. "Iverson, how are our weapons?"

"Weapons charging sir," Iverson replied staring unblinkingly at his screen as he typed away. "Two minutes until all weapons are active and ready to fire."

"Veronica, prepare to activate shields in case of an attack," Shiro ordered.

"Shields at 87% and charging," Veronica said.

"Alert the MFE pilot just in case,," Shiro ordered again without taking his eyes from the Galra ship.

Something wasn't right and he could feel it in his gut.

"Sir?" Curtis called from Shiro's right. It was strange to hear him so formal and professional but etiquette was highly substantial on the Atlas. "The Galra ship is requesting an open line of communication."

Shiro turned to Curtis and gave him a firm and curt nod before retuning to the screens, inhaling deeply before exhaling in resolve.

"Open communications."

The main screen beeped briefly before Curtis finally pressed a button and static filled the air. The tension on the bridge was thick, everyone holding their breaths as they waited.

Shiro swallowed the lump of nervousness by clearing his throat before speaking up, loud and clear.

"Galra ship, this is Captain Takashi Shirogane of the IGF-Atlas. State your-"

"Help!" an alarmed female voice cut him croakily. "Please, help me."

Shiro felt the tension on the bridge stiffen with restlessness as they all exchanged troubled glances.

"What happened? Who are you?" Shiro enquired.

"My na-" the voice coughed before continuing weakly. "My name is Lirranne. My planet was attacked by the Galra. I managed to escape by stealing one of their ships. Please... help me."

"Hold on, we'll help you. We'll send a-" Shiro said determinedly as communication was then abruptly cut. He looked at Curtis whose brow was furrowed and typing furiously. "What happened?"

"The Galra ship's communications went down sir," Curtis replied. "I can't get through."

"She must be running out of power," Iverson commented.

"Send a rescue pod to that ship and retrieve Lirranne immediately," Shiro ordered and Veronica rapidly assented with a nod of her head.

#

The hangar gates closed as the recue pod landed. Shiro shook his leg impatiently, his arms crossed at his chest. Suddenly there was a soft thud and the pod's metal entrance slowly opened up.

One of the Atlas members supported the weight of a young woman whose red hair covered her face. She was small in comparison to an average human but definitely human like.

"Lirranne?" Shiro called hesitantly as they reached they descended and Lirranne lifted her head towards him faintly. She was pale and weak.

"She's wounded sir," the crewmember helping Lirranne commented. "And lost a lot of blood. She needs medical attention straight away."

"Take her to the medical bay," Shiro ordered calmly as Lirranne's head hung to her chest, a low groan escaping her lips.

Shiro studied Lirranne as she was led through the hangar and through the doors, disappearing from sight.

There was something about her that emanated some kind of power he couldn't identify, some energy that raised the hairs on the back of his neck. Her presence reminded him of Allura's.

"Retrieve that Galra ship and bring it in," Shiro whispered to one of the pilots next to him. The pilot looked slightly confused but then nodded his head, saluted and barked an order to his team disappearing from sight.

"Sir?" someone called behind him and Shiro turned his head to see Veronica holding her tablet to her chest, her eyes cast down and a frightened look in her face.

She looked so much like her brother, the same worried wrinkles creasing their forehead and a shadow covering their blue eyes. He missed Lance.

"She said she was attacked by the Galra. Do you think it was-?"

Shiro placed his left hand on her shoulder and Veronica lifted her eyes to him, concern clear in her expression.

After the war ended, they had worked so hard in trying to spread peace throughout the whole galaxy. But as in every war, there are still those who linger thirstily for bloodshed and as the Galra saying goes _victory or death._

The Galra factions still loyal to the old Empire had established themselves under one flag; the Spectral Death with warlord Admiral Brildux as their new leader. Much similar to the Fire of Purification, the Spectral Death's main purpose was to purge the universe of traitors and unworthy while restoring the Galra's prior glory and supremacy. Brildux's plan was to become the new emperor of the new Galra Empire and follow on Zarkon's footsteps.

Once again the universe was at risk. And once again the universe needed a defender.

Shiro squeezed Veronica's shoulder and tried to give her a small smile, knowing perfectly well that after all they went through, she was one of the few people that could see beyond his resolute disguise. Still, he kept trying to appease his crew and friends.

"We're stronger now, stronger than we were two years ago. We can fight this as long as we're together and remain hopeful."

"But without Voltron..." her voice trailed off. Shiro's heart skipped a beat at the mention of Voltron.

"We'll find Voltron," Shiro reassured her. "I know we will."

Veronica sighed uncertainly but returned Shiro's small smile. He knew that Veronica's worries extended to her brother.

Ever since the Lions disappeared after Allura's sacrifice, Lance had slowly become a different person, a pale version of himself - he was no longer joyful and high-spirited as before but instead depressed and insecure, a cowed replica of his old self.

"But even if we do find it," Veronica continued after a few seconds of silence "we're still a paladin short. Will you pilot the Black Lion again?"

"No! The Black Lion chose Keith; he's its paladin and the leader Voltron needs," Shiro replied. "I'm sure we'll find a paladin for Blue and, quite probably, a paladin worth following on Lance's and Allura's spirit. We have _to."_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be a rather long chapter and still about Shiro. But next chapter will have a different yet familiar one so don't worry 😉

The medical bay smelled of disinfectant and something else that tickled Shiro's nose. He sniffed holding his sneeze in and approached the only occupied bed.

He studied the still sedated stranger; Lirranne's pale white skin was bruised and tainted by some cuts but it still didn't diminished her eerie beauty. She had lilac tattoos adorning her cheeks and forehead, swirls and symbols he didn't recognise. Her face was long and almost like chiselled. He found himself checking her ears: normal like his, not pointy like the Alteans ears.

Shiro chuckled to himself as he remembered the first time they had met Allura and her comment about Lance's ears.  _They're hideous,_  she had said flustering an already dazed Lance.

That was the day they learned about Voltron and because its paladins. The day his life had changed yet again after being kidnapped by the Galra. Shiro felt like his life was constantly changing, a never-ending downward spiral of changes he barely had any saying in. And when he thought that fate had finally given up on deviations, he was once again thrown into mayhem.

A soft cough woke him from his silent reverie and Shiro looked down at the girl lying in bed. She was slowly waking up, her eyelids fluttering open and blinking into the white light of the medical bay. Shiro noticed her eyes were amber with flecks of that same lilac colour as her tattoos.

She cleared her throat but her voice still came out raspy and in an undertone. "Where am I?"

"You're safe now," Shiro replied softly. "You're in the medical bay of the Atlas. We managed to rescue you in time."

Lirranne seemed to sigh in relief briefly, a single tear falling from the corner of her eye. "You saved me."

"You saved yourself by finding us," Shiro commented despite the warmth of fulfilment that had gushed through him at her words.

"I guess I was in the right place at the right time," she tried to smile but grimaced instead, groaning in pain before coughing lightly.

"I need to ask you a few questions," Shiro said calmly.

"Of course," Lirranne said. She tried to sit down on her bed but slumped back down at the pain that abruptly swept over her. She hissed in discomfort and sweat began forming in her forehead. She was still weak and clearly hurting.

For a moment Shiro wished the Castle of Lions had survived its ultimate destruction during their battle against Lotor. They could use the technology of the Castle and develop their own cryo-pods. Lirranne looked like she could use a few days healing in one of them.

"Maybe you should rest first," Shiro remarked.

Lirranne shook her head and waved a hand dismissing his words. "No, it's okay, I'm fine. I can answer your questions."

"Are you sure? You're in pain and you've lost a lot of blood..."

"My pain can wait," Lirranne said determinedly, her tone rigid as her amber eyes hardened. Only now did Shiro notice the slight twang of her accent.

Shiro sighed. "Very well,"

He picked up a chair that stood at the end of the bed and quietly sat down, organising his questions as Lirranne managed to sit down. She waited patiently, her hands clapped together at her lap.

"Where are you from?" Shiro begun.

"I'm from a planet called Ilnaria in the Kevruel system," Lirranne replied firmly. "Ilnaria is famous for its weapons, the universe's largest artillery supply stock. And also for its association with the Galra."

"What do you mean?" Shiro asked warily.

Lirranne sighed tiredly this time and closed her eyes briefly before speaking again. "When Zarkon ruled as Emperor of the Known Universe, we were one of the few planets who willingly surrendered to him and offered our support. My people worked with the Galra, filling their armoury with our weapons and creating new ones. In our defence, we really didn't have any other choice but to submit; Zarkon had destroyed one of our neighbouring planets as example of what could happen to us if we didn't. We feared for our lives."

"We don't judge people based on their survival instincts," Shiro stated solemnly even though he had personally felt the loss of people dear to him because of the Galra's weapons. "What your people did was to survive and no-one can judge you for that."

"The Galra killed millions with our weapons; destroyed planets and ruined countless of lives because we surrendered instead of fight," Lirranne said resentfully, her face set into a cold glower. "Their blood, the universe's blood is also in our hands."

"The Coalition also sent millions to war," Shiro added feeling Lirranne's words hit a particular tender spot in his heart. He wasn't off the hook when it came to blood in his hands; he had witnessed people die because of his orders and their presence still haunted him at night. "The fight against the Galra was gruesome and cruel to the whole universe. But it's what you do now that atones for what you've done in the past."

Lirranne gave him a strange look which Shiro didn't comprehend until she grinned sadly. "They said that the former Black paladin was wise but I never believed. Until now."

Shiro felt his cheeks hot at the compliment. "I wouldn't say I'm wise but I have felt the toll of the war."

"Haven't we all?"

They exchanged a meaningful glance, the silence that had befallen them one filled with respect and reprieve.

"What happened?" Shiro pressed on, continuing with his questioning.

"We tried to atone for our sins and refused to surrender to the Spectral Death," Lirranne replied and Shiro smirked lightly at her choice of words. But then his face fell when Lirranne continued her tale. "Brildux attacked Ilnaria out of nowhere and with our own weapons. We weren't prepared and barely had time to evacuate the planet and build up our defences."

"How did you steal a Galra ship?" Shiro enquired curiously.

"I fought my way in," Lirranne replied with a sly smirk. They she seemed to remember something, her eyebrows rising as she looked at Shiro with a grave expression. "They were after something; a weapon our engineers were developing."

"What sort of weapon?" Shiro asked leaning ever so slightly forward.

"I... I don't know," Lirranne's shoulders slumped and she looked down at her bandaged and still clasped hands. "I was merely a pilot, a low-ranking cadet for that matter; not an engineer working on highly advanced weaponry."

"We need information about that weapon," Shiro stated agitatedly. "If the Galra are after a weapon then we need to reconsider our defences."

"I'm sorry I can't help you," Lirranne said desolately.

Shiro felt his apprehension ebb at Lirranne's tone. His mouth dried as a question formed in his lips: "Did-did they destroy the planet?"

Lirranne let out a trembling exhale before casting her eyes down, her amber eyes bloodshot with tears of anger and pain. "Yes!"

Shiro's stomach dropped to the floor and returned to his chest where it resumed beating irregularly.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered in sympathy but he knew his words would never be able to convey the true feeling of despondency he felt for Lirranne's loss.

Allura and Coran had also lost their planet to the Galra and the agony in their eyes whenever they spoke about Altea had been almost unbearable. When Allura sacrificed herself to restore the realities Honerva had destroyed, Altea had somehow magically returned becoming what they had retitled as New Altea in her memory and in her honour.

"You need to rest," Shiro stated after Lirranne's tears had silently fallen. "Once you're recovered we can figure out what to do next."

She didn't say anything but nodded with her head. Shiro watched as she wiped the trail of tears and closed her eyes, leaning her head against the wall. He felt the weight of her loss lingering in the air and stood up from his chair, his mind spinning with unhindered contemplations that he didn't even dare consider were real.

Brildux wouldn't destroy a planet just because they didn't surrender. That wasn't his modus operandi; he crept into the core of the planet and slowly made his way up until he had yield them all to his will, taking whatever he wanted from them and using the people as slaves.

This was almost like Zarkon all over again and the idea of such impossible thing was sickening and frightening.

#

Shiro needed to debrief his crew about what he had learned but his mind was too disordered for him to act like a leader. Instead, he went to his sleeping quarters hoping to rest his head for a while.

The door slid shut behind him and Shiro pinched the bridge of his nose as he took a deep breath.

"How did it go?" he looked up to see Curtis' worried and expectant blue eyes staring at him from their couch. He was reading something in his tablet and the moment he saw Shiro, he placed it on the table. "Was she awake?"

"Yes," Shiro replied as he approached the couch and heavily slumped down next to his husband, his head leaning back as he stared at the ceiling.

"You look worry," Curtis commented. "What happened? What did she say?"

Shiro tightened his lips before replying. "Brildux destroyed her planet."

Curtis gasped in shock at his side. "What about her people?"

"She says they managed to evacuate," Shiro replied and Curtis sighed in brief relief. "But that's not all. She said something about the Galra looking for a weapon."

"A weapon? What kind of weapon?"

"She didn't know,"

Shiro felt Curtis' hand on his leg and turned his head to him. His husband's face mirrored his own inner distress but there was something in the silver lining of his blue eyes that also shown an unflinching optimism. It was still strange to him to even consider how lucky he was to be married to Curtis. Even in the midst of his doubts and reservations, Curtis was the strength he needed to cope with it all. He had found in him the stability he needed to be strong for the whole universe.

",She's very lucky," Curtis commented. "That Galra ship she was in was running out of power and oxygen. It was already in reserve. A few more days, perhaps hours and she would be dead, adrift in space."

"Was there anything else on the ship?"

"Veronica ran a diagnose test on the ship; it jumped from the Kevruel system before its main control power shut down due to a malfunction from a hit. It has been orbiting this system for at least five days."

"Was there any other data concerning the Galra?"

"Nothing useful," Curtis replied. "Its computer was completely blank of any coordinates or backup records from previous flights. The Galra are being thorough."

"Quiznak!" Shiro cursed.

"What now? What are you going to do?" Curtis asked running a hand through Shiro's hair. "The Spectral is getting stronger and if they're destroying planets now..."

"I need to alert Krolia and Kolivan," Shiro said closing his eyes as he let Curtis' circular moves ease his throbbing head. "And we need to come up with a plan but until we have a clue about what Brildux was after, we're completely useless."

"Don't say that," Curtis admonished indignantly. "You always come up with a plan."

"I don't know what to do," Shiro sighed tiredly. "The Coalition is on high alert but Brildux is always one step ahead of us. He attacks out of nowhere and disappears just as fast. We can't predict his next step and without Voltron..."

Curtis fingers kept playing with Shiro's grey hair, a soothing motion that no longer lessened his headache.

"Have you spoken to Keith?" Curtis asked seconds later.

"His on mission for the Blade," Shiro replied pinching the bridge of his nose again. "Kolivan had word of a Galra cruiser that might contain some information."

"What about the rest of the paladins?" Curtis continued. "I heard Sam say that Pidge found some Olkari and have been working with them in developing some kind of Voltron tracker or something."

"Definitely sounds like her," Shiro felt the tips of his lips curl into a small smile as he pictured Pidge's dishevelled appearance after three nights without sleep.

"And Hunk is back on Earth too. He sent me a recipe to try; said it's something aphrodisiac from a planet called Onax?"

"Typical Hunk," Shiro commented with a light chuckle.

"I'm not entirely sure if I want to try a dish from a planet that he described as 'obnoxiously peculiar but pleasant in a squelchy way'. What does that even mean?"

It was such a natural thing of Curtis to lighten up his strained mood that he couldn't help but chortle. He looked sideways at his husband who was shrugging his shoulders at his own question and felt a wave of reverence rush through him. The impulsive was stronger than him and Shiro abruptly leaned forward catching Curtis by surprised as he kissed him.

Curtis arms were immediately around his neck and pulled Shiro further to him. They forgot about the world outside their arms and kiss as they ravelled in each other. Shiro pushed away slightly to plant several kisses and light bites on Curtis' neck.

"Shiro... babe..." Curtis called slightly out of breath. "What was that for?"

"Can't I kiss my husband when I want to?" Shiro asked teasingly biting Curtis' earlobe and making him shudder under his touch.

"Shiro!" Curtis gasped as Shiro's hand had ventured into dangerous territories. "Stop that!"

Curtis pushed him away and stared down at him, his cheeks flushed but his eyes serious. Shiro's expression fell and he felt deflated as he pouted.

"You need to figure out what to do before we have any...  _fun,"_  Curtis hesitated on the last word.

"You've ruined the moment," Shiro commented dropping his shoulders and straightening his backs.

"This is serious, Shiro. You can't avoid this; not now."

Shiro exhaled resignedly and placed his elbows on his knees. He observed his hands. The titanium of his new robotic arm shone lightly with the blue light of Allura's crystal. Sam had upgraded his previous arm by combining the crystal with the Galran technology used on the sentinels. It felt lighter and easier to manoeuvre.

He closed and opened his fist as he reacted to Curtis words miserably. "I'm not avoiding it Curtis. I just... I'm not sure if we can stop Brildux from increasing his power. I feel completely helpless."

"I know you'll figure something out," Curtis assured him but Shiro noticed the slight hint of distress in his undertone. "You always do. But you're not alone; you don't have to carry the weight of the universe on your shoulders."

"I never said I do,"

"But you do," Curtis interjected with a tender expression. "You have this tendency to protect everyone that sometimes you forget to let others protect you too. You're selfless and I love that about you."

"Maybe you give me more credit than I deserve," Shiro commented feeling a swelling inside his chest that almost choked him.

"Perhaps," Curtis agreed with a light chuckle. "You are stubborn to an extent. But there's something I'm completely sure about you." Curtis turned Shiro's face back to him and looked him deeply in the eyes, searching for something and finding it with a smile that melted Shiro's composure. "You will never give up."

He leaned forwards and kissed Shiro deeply, transmitting his entire admiration and adoration through that kiss. Curtis allowed Shiro to deepen it as they both fell on the couch and Shiro's worried were momentarily forgotten

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an action-packed chapter. It took me three re-writes and I'm still not happy with it.
> 
> Still, I had promised a new character's perspective and here it is 😊

Keith's footsteps were silent and agile. He was merely another shadow on the wall, a ghost haunting the corridors of the Galra cruiser. He didn't have a single thought in his mind but the mission ahead of him, the rush of thrill buzzing in his ears alongside his steadily pounding heart and breath.

Through the screen on his mask, he identified the heat signature of two guards on the next hallway after his next junction that led to his target location. He halted and hid behind the wall, peeking and analysing his situation.

Keith took his blade from his sheath, the one his mother had returned to him as promised. Tightening it in his hand and feeling the familiar weight, he awoke the blade and took a deep breath against the wall, counting to three before rushing forward.

The two guards never saw him coming and before they even hit the ground dead and immobile, Keith was already through the door they guarded and let it slid shut behind him.

He smirked proudly to himself.

He was inside the main control room where monitors and computer screens displayed a live feed of the entire cruiser and where official and important data was securely transferred and backed up.

He approached the main computer and placed his hand on the sensor, a purple light shining brightly. The perks of being half-Galra - he could easily hack their systems from the inside. A digital keyboard appeared before him as Galran symbols begun scrolling up on the monitor.

Dematerialising his helmet, Keith read through the information quickly to make sure it was what he had come here for, thankful that his mother and Kolivan had taught him how to read Galra.

While the information was uploading, he looked at the live feed taking notice of his enemies' whereabouts.

So far his infiltration had been smooth and stealthy, the occasional encounter with a guard or two rapidly dispatched without much alarm.

Kolivan had said that the cruiser was merely a space dock to gather data from across the system before jumping to a different location to collect more data. Having planned the infiltration thoroughly, Kolivan had stated that the job would be quick and easy.

So far, so good.

Keith took the small hard-disk Kolivan had given him and slid it inside the computer, downloading the Galra intel. His eyes watched the progress bar filling up in an almost painstakingly pace, his blood pumping an anxious adrenaline through his veins.

For a moment he wished Pidge was there with him, her computer skills which outsmarted his by the million probably capable to speed up the process.

His heart clenched lightly at the memory of the green paladin.

He pushed the thought aside and sighed despairingly and looked at the monitors around him.

One of the live feed caught his attention and Keith approached it to analyse the footage. He recognised the hallway where three other Galra guards were marching almost in synchrony and Keith cursed under his breath. They were getting closer to his location and would soon find the bodies of the guards he had killed just outside the door.

"Quiznak," he cursed again glancing at the computer. Now the hard-disk was uploading a virus that would corrupt whatever data was there and was currently at 45% and sluggishly filling up the bar.

He looked back at the monitor and saw the three guards turning the same corner he had previously hid in. A few more steps and they would bump into the bodies.

"Come on, hurry up!" he cussed as the upload reached 78%. He was beginning to get exasperated, his arms tingling with disquiet and his heart racing.

He was running out of time.

He heard the commotion of footsteps approaching from the outside and before he even had time to lift his head from the computer; an alarm went off through the cruiser. Its loud drumming racket shrilled inside Keith's mind momentarily startling him.

It took him only a millisecond to recover from his initial jolt and before the guards had time to charge through the control room, he dashed to the door and sliced the electronic pad with his blade, locking himself in and the guards out.

He had bought himself only a few more minutes, maybe seconds, of time before the Galra would eventually blast their way through the door. But it was enough for him to check that the virus had finally be upload, to securely hide the hard-disk and to look around for a way out.

A loud bang scared him making Keith jump in his place as the guards begun firing at the door with their blasters. He knew that a few more of those shots would be enough to wield the metal door open. He heard screams and shouts and more footsteps and knew, without a doubt, that he was completely surrounded by guards on the other side.

Frantically he looked around inspecting the control room and searching for a way out. He found it in the form of a vent. He dropped his shoulders unexcitedly at the banality of his escape. Still, it was an escape.

With a grunt of effort he jumped and pulled the grid out, the racketed it made completely drowned by another blast to the door that almost shook the room. Keith pushed a button and his mask was adjusted to his face and prepared himself to jump once again, this time the tips of his fingers catching the verge of the vent and struggling to climb up.

Breathing hard, he made his way half-bent through the vent without looking back but also without exactly knowing where he was going.

He once again wished Pidge was with him - she would have a layout of the vents and would guide him through. But she wasn't with him so Keith had to blindly follow his instinct.

All he could do was hope to reach a particularly safe place for him to come down and then plan his next move to get out of the cruiser.

He barely had taken a few steps forward when he heard the door at long last being blast opened and agitated voices echoing through the vent.

Keith didn't even pause to listen; he just kept going as fast as he could in such uncomfortable position. He turned right, then left, then right again and after a few seconds Keith was absolutely sure he was lost.

He knew the Galra weren't stupid and had by now realised he had escaped through the vents and he should definitely keep going; but he had to stop to, not only catch his breath in such a claustrophobic small space, but also to listen to any sign of danger up ahead.

He could hear the fuss of his pursuers' right on his heels and the disorder of more guards running about the cruiser. Their armoured footsteps weren't exactly silent and even through the vent he could hear them rapidly spread through the cruiser, probably locking unto all of the vents'exits and waiting for him, arms at the ready.

As he let a shaky breath out and tried to control his racing heart, Keith followed the tunnel and turned left, reaching an opening that descended into the unknown. With the echoes of the Galra following him, he didn't think twice before he lunged forward and into the hole.

Keith clumsily fell from the vents, tumbling down haphazardly in a heap of sentries that didn't know what hit them.

"Ouch!" he groaned, a twinge of pain knocking his breath out.

For a brief moment he was confused and dazed until he heard a weapon being charged. Blinking the pain away, Keith managed to open his eyes and realised he was staring at the barrel of a blaster. He swallowed lifting his eyes to a guard.

"Get up!" the guard barked at him.

Keith lifted his hands in surrender and stood up deliberately slow. He calculated his chances of tackling the guard to the ground and waited for the right moment to attack.

"Sir, I have the intruder. It's one of the Blade," the guard communicated through his earpiece only taking his eyes off Keith to fetch the handcuffs.

But that was all Keith needed to attack him, striking him in the stomach before punching him in the jaw and sending him flying. The guard hit the floor with a thump, his blaster thrown away from him and knocked out.

Keith was already running away from the scene, opening a door and almost moaning in relief at his luck. His plan was coming together even though he small complication.

He had reached a hangar where only a handful of guards and a few sentries stood in their stances. Nothing he couldn't take care of rapidly.

It took the guards a the second before they noticed him and begun firing at him. But Keith was already swiftly moving along the hangar, his blade already awake in his grip. He swung it catching the first guard before moving to the other one who almost managed to graze him and then to the other.

He was fast, faster than the sentries had predicted and before they could aim at their target, Keith had already hit them with one of the guards blasters, stunning them down and promptly making his way to one of the space pods.

It had happened so fast Keith was both shocked and pleased with himself.

Once inside the cockpit, he blasted the hangar gateway open and busted out of the cruiser before more Galra entered the hangar.

Right on cue, a few fighter jets were promptly dispatched, following Keith around space and firing up at him but always missing their target. Keith's pod moved swiftly in evasive manoeuvres before he pushed the controllers backwards, arching behind one of the fighter jets and immediately shooting it from behind. The jet exploded as Keith accelerated through the flames and debris, quickly adding his coordinates and readying to jump.

The pods' computer suddenly alerted him to the cruiser's ion canon, charging and turning towards him. The distraction of the warning caused Keith to divert his attention to the cruiser until the pod shook, red lights and alarms blasting through the cockpit at the damaged left wing.

Keith cursed loudly trying to steady the pod. Shiro would be appalled by his language.

Once the coordinates were locked and the pod was ready to jump even with a damaged wing, Keith accelerated putting as much distance as he could between him, the fighters and the ion canon which was about to fire, a purple light twirling with energy.

With sweat clinging to his skin, his blood ringing in his ears and his breathing uneven, Keith pushed the button to jump drive right when the ion shot its beam of energy missing him by mere milliseconds.

Even after all these years as a pilot, Keith would never be completely used to the first impact of a space jump. His heart skipped a momentary beat as his stomach lurched, his entire body pressed against the seat of the cockpit as he travelled faster than light in mere seconds. Before a scream could form within his chest, the pod came to a halt near a white dwarf.

As he orbited around the planetary nebula, Keith unclenched his teeth and dematerialised his helmet, letting his breath out in relief and in frustration and wipe the swear from his forehead..

He was upset, angry at himself for the failed mission. Because, even though he did succeed in retrieving the data he was supposed to acquire and upload the virus, he was supposed to infiltrate without any incident. And the end result was entirely the opposite; the Galra was now aware of his mission and probably reporting it to Brildux at that instant.

Brildux would be one step ahead of them once again and it was all because of his failed mission.

He could almost see Kolivan's dissapointed face staring down at him.

Keith took the hard-disk from his pocket and looked at it, almost hoping it would somehow tell him what he should do now. He truly hoped that whatever information he had downloaded from the computer was enough to help the Coalition against the Spectral Death.

He sighed and put the hard-disk again on his pocket. He felt deflated, the adrenaline dwindling into an uptight anxiety at the pit of his gut.

He wished with all his might to be piloting the Black Lion, to have Voltron and be able to protect the universe even if it killed him.

Keith came to realise that what really fulfilled him was Voltron. And without it, he felt completely empty, as if a part of him would never be truly whole again. Without his team he felt hollow and insignificant. And as much as he tried to fill the void by helping the Blade of Marmora and the Coalition fighting Brildux, it just wasn't the same; there was a hole in him and that hole hurt much more than any wound he had suffered.

He would give everything he had to have Voltron back because then it would mean he had his family back and maybe, just maybe, he would finally feel complete and worthwhile.

With a tired exhale and a heavy heart, Keith pushed the controls forward and flew to his rendezvous point where Kolivan, his mother and some Blade members would be waiting for him. He readied himself for their disappointment.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to cut this chapter short because it was already too long. There was a scene with Krolia after this but I decided to put it on another chapter so as not to have super long chapters.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter is a little long. Sorry about it 😋

Lance groaned in effort as he let go of the seed sack he was carrying. He straightened his back, removing his straw hat and wiped the sweat from his brow. He stared at the clear blue sky of Cuba.

The day was humid though warm, the sun kissing his tan skin and a soft breeze ruffling his brown hair. It was a perfect spring day and Lance revelled on its marvellous sensation. The valley stretched out before him far into the distance, the purple of the juniberry flowers he had planted adding some colour to the endless green.

His lips curled into a soft smile as the sweet aroma of the Altean flower blended perfectly with Earth’s flora. He breathed in, letting the fresh air to clean his weary lungs and picked up the sack again and made his way up to the barn, a new vigour to his effort.

His farm was a few miles away from Varadera beach where he had grew up. He had missed the pristine beaches of Cuba, the presence of his family so close to him, the nostalgia of his childhood reminiscences.

Overall, Lance had missed home.

Since the end of the war he had secluded himself in the safety of his home, in the affection of his family and in the adoration of Allura’s memory all around him.

He placed the seed sack in a neat pile at the corner of the bark and took a step back to stretch his weary limbs. Suddenly someone called him from the outside, his sister’s voice carried by the wind.

“I’m in the barn,” he shouted at her and heard Rachel’s footsteps on the gravel before she barged in, her cheeks flushed and her hair wild. She bent down to pant, her hands at her knees.

They looked so much alike people normally believed they were twins; in fact they were only one year apart, Rachel, unfortunately for him, being the eldest.

“Lance…” she managed to say through tired gasps. “Gee… I’m… out of… breath…”

“Did you just run all the way up here from the house?” Lance asked with an amused chuckled.

Rachel lifted her finger for him to wait and took several lungful of breaths. Lance leaned against one of the barn pillars and crossed his arms, amused at his sister’s complete lack of exercise.

“There’s…” she took a deep breath before continuing, the exertion of her run clearly draining her. “There’s someone waiting for you at the house. Mamã asked me to get you.”

“Who is it?” Lance asked furrowing his eyebrows and a disquieting sensation suddenly clouded his previous peace of mind.

Rachel shrugged her shoulder and made an “I-don’t-know” sound. “He looks imposing though. I think he’s from the Garrison,” she observed.

Lance heaved a dejected sigh and pushed away from the pillar, a sickening presentiment clenching in his gut.

He followed Rachel out of the barn and together they made their way down the hill. The rays of sunshine no longer warmed him and the sweet fragrance of the juniberry flowers no longer calmed his racing heart. He had this cautioning impression that whoever was in his house waiting for him didn’t bring good news.

He ran a hand through his hair and noticed how long it was, almost like his own mullet. Unexpectedly his mind was assaulted by one particular mullet, the memory stabbing Lance like a dagger to the chest and for a brief second he forgot about everything around him and only saw that face.

Keith’s face.

“They grew so much,” Rachel commented bringing him back to the present.

Lance shook his head and looked at his sister who gave him a broad smile which he returned as sincerely as he could.

Keith still haunted his mind even after he had tried to push those unwanted and unwelcomed thoughts and memories aside. But to no avail; once he started thinking about Keith he couldn’t stop and it always made him burn with some kind of guilt and melancholy.

They reached the house and the first thing Lance noticed was how uncannily quiet it seemed. Normally he would get home to a certain tumult of activity that would fill his ears with laughter. It had been exactly that heartfelt welcome that had made Lance return to Cuba and give up on his dreams. That and the ache of a broken heart that could only be healed by the caring of his loneliness.

“Mamã? I brought Lance,” Rachel yelled to the house.

“We’re in the kitchen,” their mother called.

They made their way through the corridor into the kitchen, the sweet smell of homemade cookies and tea filling the air.

Lance let his straw hat hand on his back and braced himself to whoever he was going to find there.

“Mr. Hedrick?” Lance had been expecting almost everyone from the Garrison except for the elderly man contentedly chatting with his mother over a cup of tea.

“Ah, Lance my boy,” Hedrick said the moment he took notice of him and Rachel, his British accent thick and posh which only enhanced his dazzling politeness.

However, Lance noticed that there was something amiss with him, how thin and ashen his skin looked and how hollow his chocolate brown eyes looked.

Hedrick stood from his chair with open arms and a big smile that didn’t look sincere; it felt forced, a charade of who this man used to be when Lance was merely a cadet back at the Garrison.

He gave Lance an awkward hug and patted him in his arms since he couldn’t quite reach his shoulders.

“Look at you all muscle and height. I remembered when you were just a wee skinny boy. Now I feel dwarfed next to you. Your Altean marks do really bring out the blue in your eyes.”

Lance was genuinely confused and baffled by his presence and stole a quick look at his mother who blushed slightly before also standing from her chair.

“Mr. Hedrick has been telling me some exciting news about the Garrison,” she remarked happily. She smacked Rachel on the arm since his sister had picked up several of the cookies and had begun eating them unceremoniously.

Rachel grimaced.

“Ouch,” Rachel shrunk but noticed her mother’s wide eyes and understood their meaning. She glanced at Lance and Hedrick and slowly followed her mother to the backdoor, the plate of cookies in her hand.

“We’ll leave you two to catch up.”

“Thank you Mrs. McClain,” Hedrick said with a small bow before they were both through the door, finally leaving the two men alone.

“What are you doing here?” Lance asked the old man without preambles and without much emotion in his voice.

Hedrick had taken over Commander Iverson at the Galaxy Garrison shortly after the end of the war since the latter had resigned his post to remain part of the IGF-Atlas crew. He had asked more than once for Lance to accept a post as flying instructor which he bluntly refused over and over again until Hedrick finally gave up trying altogether.

Hedrick seemed to sense Lance’s indifference and hung his head as he fidgeted lightly with his fingers, rapidly returning to his seat. There was something odd about the way he sipped his tea, in the way his eyes darted around the kitchen and in his shocking sulked appearance.

This was not the same man Lance remembered.

“Why don’t you sit?” Hedrick queried motioning for the vacant sit next to him.

Lance only crossed his arms and scowled leaning against the wall. “Why are you here?”

“I am not here for the reason you might think,” Hedrick begun firmly, his previous delightful, though forced, manner replaced by an unyielding professionalism. “I will no longer beg of you to reconsider the position at the Garrison. You’ve made yourself clear that you are not interested in it.”

“Then why are you here?” Lance asked again, studying the old man and feeling his patience run thin.

“We got a message from the IGF-Atlas,” Hedrick continued evenly. Lance’s chest fluttered briefly at the mention of the spaceship but he remained silent, expectant as the old man proceeded. “Apparently they have rescued a young woman whose planet has been destroyed by the Spectral Death. She had some… concerning news.”

Lance felt that same indignant wave of rage he always felt whenever evil endeavours were executed overwhelm his senses and clenched his jaw and fists tightly.

He was aware of the Spectral Death rampage throughout the universe, how Brildux was building an empire such as daunting as Zarkon’s if not much more terrifying.

“I’m sorry to hear about it,” Lance’s words sounded strangely cold even to him. “But it still doesn’t explain the reason why you’re here.”

Hedrick adjusted the sleeve of his grey uniform before continuing. “Brildux is expanding his supremacy to the extreme by attacking innocent people and planets. This planet he destroyed, Ilnaria, was just the beginning of a chain reaction on a much larger scale. The Galactic Coalition has been trying their hardest to protect everyone but their influence is limited and their weapons useless against the Spectral’s immense power.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Lance enquired. He felt as if a hand was clenching his heart.

Hedrick locked eyes with Lance and his words were steady yet austere. “You know why.”

Lance moistened his lips and swallowed in dry, lookin away from Hedrick as his voice came out throatily. “I’m done with wars. You coming here was a waste of your time.”

Lance felt a stomach-churning wave of uncertainty at his own words the moment he pronounced them. He had chosen to withdraw himself from his previous life so he could remain in the seclusion of his own emotions. But he couldn’t deny nor could he pretend that he didn’t miss it; the delight of protecting the innocent and save the universe, that parade of heroes he used to mockingly talk about whenever they won.

He did miss it. But even if he wanted to return, he couldn’t.

Voltron disappeared. Allura died. The paladins were no more without the Lions. And he was a changed man.

“We need Voltron, Lance,” Hedrick said in a low whisper and his words felt like a punch to Lance.

“There is no Voltron,” Lance snapped heatedly while clenching his fists at his side, his teeth gritted. Hedrick flinched ever so slightly at his irate tone. “The Lions are gone and without them there’s nothing we can do. And without Allura, we can’t find them.”

“Miss Holt has been developing a tracker to locate the Lions, a Voltron Geiger she calls it,” Hedrick said. “She says she is close to replicate the Lion’s transdimensional properties with the help of Altean chemistry. She’s confident she’ll find them. Maybe you should too.”

“Pidge has always been too optimistic when it comes to science,” Lance commented with a quick smile at the remembrance of his friend. “But finding the Lions isn’t that easy and she knows it.”

“That’s why we need you,”

“Why?” Lance asked unsmilingly now. “You think my presence will somehow activate her tracker and bring them back? You think because I’m so damn important to the team I’ll make a difference?”

“We need you to try at least,” Hedrick defied back, his voice raising ever so slightly, his patience at Lance’s complete lack of zeal beginning to reach its limit. “Everyone else from Team Voltron is trying their best to protect the universe. Even Hunk is going on diplomatic trips to assure the safety of people. And what are you doing? Planting flowers and sulking away in Cuba while others risk their lives out there.”

“Get. Out.” Lance words came out in a dangerous undertone.

Hedrick cast his eyes down and silence fell between them.

Lance’s breathing was irregular as his temper bordered on silent wrath. Hedrick’s words had cut deep, deeper than Lance would admit and it infuriated him to know how excruciating it was to hear them. And to know he was right. They felt like a punch to his heart, knocking his breath out of him as they resonated agonisingly like Keith’s last words to him after their last argument.

_Keith!_

“I shouldn’t have said that,” Hedrick said downheartedly as he stood up from his chair. “I was out of line; my apologies.”

Lance didn’t reply, didn’t dare to speak for his emotions were currently unchecked and charging through him like a wrecking ball. He didn’t even look at the other man as he adjusted his uniform, clearing his throat.

“The war changes us,” Hedrick begun in a low voice. “It shatters our heart and thickens our soul. It’s a painful ordeal to go through, I know; we lose people we love and even after the war is over, nothing can mend what has been broken within us. We’re no longer the same. We believe we will no longer find happiness, will no longer be whole again, and will no longer heal.

“I also lost someone to the war, you know? My daughter, Beth. For a long time I grieved and mourned her death believing I deserved the pain as punishment for not being able to protect her.

Lance swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat, his eyes stinging as Hedrick’s words pierced the wrath and turned it into a crestfallen melancholy that reverberated through him.

“But I learned,” he continued “that the only way to honour her was to use that anguish and turn it into something helpful. By saving other peoples’ lives, I’m making sure no-one else has to lose a daughter like I did.”

“I’m truly sorry about your daughter,” Lance whispered sadly and sincerely.

Hedrick gave him a quick teary smile before approaching him. “I know you’re grieving your own loss for Princess Allura. But the universe needs you. It needs the blue paladin. She’d want you to try.”

Lance was conflicted, a war raging inside his head that throbbed like a splitting migraine.

“I’ll be returning to the Garrison tomorrow at noon,” Hedrick announced with a hand on Lance’s arm, his touch feeble and hesitant. “Think about it and if you change your mind, I’ll be at this address.”

Hedrick took a card from one of his pockets and placed it on the table.

Lance was lost in his troubled mind and barely took notice of Hedrick’s departure. He was tumbling down into a spiral of uncertainties, insecurities and anxieties that slowly consumed him. The walls he had constructed around his chaotic emotions after Allura’s sacrifice were cracking and once again he didn’t know what to do and he hated it with all his might.

Did the universe really need him? Was he that important to protect the universe? What would Allura want him to do?

He had always felt like the expendable one, the goofball with nothing to offer to his team but a fake pretence of belonging. He always believed the team would rapidly move on if something happened to him, would immediately trade him for a new paladin. And even after all those speeches of reassurance Keith had patiently given him, he still didn’t believe he was worth being a Voltron paladin.

He touched his Altean marks, a silent tear running down his cheeks at his own inner conflict. Why would Allura mark him with a constant reminder of their love? Why would Allura even love him when he was so unessential?

And why would Keith always pop inside his head when he tried to focus on the right thing to do? What did Keith and the right thing do had to do with each other?

#

Hedrick collapsed in his chair with a slipping headache threatening to blind him. The constant voices silently screaming in his head were almost deafening now that the drug’s influence was wearing off. He needed more if he were to continue his false charade of self-assurance and self-possession.

He clasped his hands tightly and masochistically smacked his own temples, his teeth biting into his lips as he tried not to yell in pain, in need. He needed another dose but until his supplier appeared, he would have to suffer.

Something in the corner of his hazy eye caught his attention and his heart both dropped and soared. He suddenly remembered the true reason why he was in Cuba and about his mission. He suddenly felt sick, angry at himself for being so dependent that he would rather betray his people than to be a better and resilient man.

From the shadows of his room, a figure appeared. Yellow eyes gleamed menacingly as a wicked smile showed pointy fangs. The Galra strode to Hedrick’s side, the purple of his fur stark in the dimness of the room. He had a nasty scar on his left temple. He looked like a dark ghost from a horror movie and Hedrick couldn’t help but shriek lightly at the presence.

“So, where’s the paladin?” the Galra asked in a grave tone towering over the old man. His eyes were but a slit of menace.

Hedrick broke into a cold sweat, his entire body trembling. When he spoke, his voice had lost its previous snobbishness and was now the high-pitched squeal of a coward. “He’ll come, Vakten. You’ll see.” 

“I’m tired of your empty promises Hedrick,” Vakten remarked impatiently and the old man shrunk at the sharpness of his voice. “I really hope, for your sake, that he comes. If not, Brildux will be happy to finally torture you in a thousand ways.”

Hedrick swallowed in fear and wept to himself as the Galra glared feverishly at him. With a snicker, he placed something on the table next to Hedrick and took a step back, returning to the comfort of the shadows.

Hedrick frantically picked up the small package from the table and hurried to the privacy of the bathroom, concealing himself from the rest of the world as he drowned in the dazed sensation of the drug, reality around him fading to a canvas of numbness.

Outside his door, however, Vakten stood guard and considered the human world outside with a disgusting frown. He always thought that humans were too weak, too subjective and too emotional.

“Pathetic,” he murmured.

The human emotion was one of the reasons why they were so senseless; Hedrick was the clear evidence of such. With the right words Vakten had managed to submit him to his will, giving him the reprieve he needed the most by overshadowing his true identity when he was most vulnerable. Under the lethargy of the drug laid a broken man and he had bent his will.

He couldn’t wait to capture the blue paladin and slowly break his will as well. And he would do so in the name of his new Emperor, in the name of his brother.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, did you like it? Do you have any theories?


	5. Chapter 5

Lance twisted and turned in his bed, his mind tormented by memories of Allura's braveness and selflessness. He experienced her sacrifice each night like a punishment, a remembrance of what he had lost. Her last words to him; their last kiss; the last time she was his.

_I'll always be with you Lance,_ Allura's voice echoed eerily in his dream, sweet and loving as he remembered it. _And I'l always love you._

"Don't do this Allura," he shouted as she walked into the blinding white light, his hands reaching out to her in vain. "Don't go."

As she entered the white light, something in his dream flashed like lightning blinding him momentarily. Then darkness fell like a shroud and Lance felt like he was floating in nothingness, lost within some kind of vacuum much similar to space.

"Allura?" he called, his voice resonating all around him. "Allura? Hello?"

_Lance... Lance..._ a voice called in the distance, a whisper that raised the hairs on his arms.

Suddenly a loud boom scared Lance out of his dream, waking him up startled. In the dimness of the room, a soft bluish light emanated from his Altean marks and he caressed them lightly, his face drenched in sweat and his fingertips cold.

His Altean marks never shone again ever since that night in New Altea when the Lions took off unexpectedly never to return. Back then he had felt like their purpose was concluded, that they were finally heading home. He had felt at peace watching Blue towering over him and departing with a roar. He also felt Allura with him, like her spirit was there watching over them like a guardian angel.

That sentiment soon dissipated to a throbbing longing he couldn't extinguish.

He stood groggily from his bed and went to the bathroom, the moonlight providing enough light through the open window. Lance looked at himself in the mirror, the Altean marks still shining in their white-blue light that made him faintly squint his eyes shut at their brightness in the gloom. The cool fresh air of the night breezed in softly and shivered down his spine with its gentle fingers.

He stared at his once vibrant eyes, now two lifeless hollow holes with dark circles under them and felt a bubble of self-doubt rush through him. He felt the tears fall down his cheeks, his heart a wretched mess of unidentified emotions and he propped forward on the counter, his hands grabbing the edge tightly, his knuckles white.

What was he doing? Who was that pale ghost staring back at him in the mirror? What did he hope to achieve by continuously mourn over a mere memory?

At his unceasing insecurities, a soft purr filled his head, a familiar sound he never thought he would hear again that made him gasp in disbelief. It couldn't be, could it?

_Blue?_

#

Back at the Garrison, Pidge dozed off at her computer, her glasses crooked as a small line of drool soaked her sleeve. She snored lightly before mumbling something unintelligible in her sleep.

Her computer beeped faintly as she ran another scan to her Voltron Geiger after adjusting the waves' frequency and regulating their length and increasing its electromagnetic and trans-dimensional spectrum.

The Olkari had done everything they could to helped her develop the tracker but without a true Altean alchemist with the proper knowledge about the Lion's cosmic radiation like Allura, there wasn't much she could do at the moment. Her life force had been the only link in locating the Lions in the past and Pidge tried as hard as she could to replicate that connection but failed each time.

Still, she never gave up and would never give up. All she had to do now was waiting for results before jumping into another hypothesis.

But she couldn't deny the fact that her optimism was slowly running dry and she was running out of options.

She woke up with a start as a loud roar penetrated her scientific dream and a buzzing alarm sound beeped through her haze.

"What-?" she murmured to herself as she rapidly wiped away the drool and adjusted her glasses, her mind still fuzzy.

Shaking her head to dislodge her torpor, she focused on her computer. It beeped twice, a warning sign flashing momentarily before it returned to normal as if nothing had happened.

Pidge's heart lurched forward as her drowsiness dissipated almost instantly. Her tracker had found something. She hunched over her computer and immediately begun typing away at the keyboards, her fingers moving so fast they were almost a blur.   
There was nothing there; the Geiger's system was empty of any sign of recent data.

"Oookaaay...."

She leaned back on her chair and pursed her lips, her hands hovering over the keyboard as she considered her options.

She reconfigured the tracker and browsed its occulted files but nothing came up. Not even a software malfunction warning was accused or a fluctuation of the signal.

"Well, that's weird," she commented to herself furrowing her eyebrows and staring at the screen.

Could she have imagined it? No, she was absolutely certain the Geiger went off on its own.

Someone knocked at her door before it slid open. Matt entered, a yawn escaping his lips as he stretched his arms above his head.

"It's late Pidge, you should go to bed," he said leaning against her desk.

"I took a quick nap," she replied without looking away from her screen, her fingers once again typing away at the keyboard. "And I'm not tired."

"Pidge, you've been working on that tracker for months now," Matt scolded lightly. "You need to rest."

"Rest is for the weak, Matt" Pidge stated waving a dismissing hand at him, her tone unconcernedly. "Plus, I think I found something."

"What?" Matt approached her and leaned over her shoulder to see what she was doing. "What did you find? Did you find Voltron?"

"I'm not quite sure," Pidge replied hesitantly. "The Geiger went off but I can't find what triggered it. It's driving me mad."

"Maybe it was a frequency fluctuation," Matt offered.

"No, I just recalibrated it," Pidge shook her head.

"Perhaps it found a similar signature to the Lions?"

"Nope, I still haven't configured the final signature," Pidge stood from her chair and paced around the room, biting her thumb. "It could have been a satellite messing up with the radio waves. No, it can't be. I'm using a Garrison's satellite with a broader range. What about an energy oscillation from the mechanical resonance of the- No, it's not that either. Maybe it was the computer's software..."

Pidge rambled on as Matt stared at his sister. She was a complete mess; her hair was longer and several locks were coming out of her pigtails; her eyes were wild and dilated with dark circles under them. Even her clothes were unkempt; her lab coat was all wrong buttoned and she had a different shoe in each foot.

If their mother was to see her now, she would have a heart attack and probably blame him for not taking care of his sister.

He sighed and approached her, placing his hands on her shoulders to make her stop pacing and look up at him.

"Katie, you need to stop," Matt said firmly using his older brother voice which normally would anger her but didn't even faze her this time. "You can't focus properly without getting some sleep first."

"Matt, you don't get it," Pidge countered with a heavy presentiment on her clenched chest. "I'm so close to find it, I can feel it. I just need more time to figure things out. I can't stop no-"

"Katie," Matt's tone was severe now, his eyes hard and Pidge swallowed her words. He smoothed his tone when he spoke again, "Please, get some rest. I promise I'll keep an eye on the Geiger for you while you sleep. If something happens, I'll wake you. Okay?"

Pidge stared into her brother's eyes and saw the insistence and concern in them and felt her whole body slump as fatigue finally overcame her.

"Okay," she whispered reluctantly. "But you'll warn me if something happens." Pidge added pressing a finger to his chest.

"I promise," he said with a light chuckle.

She yawned groggily, tears of exhaustion forming at the corner of her eyes. She allowed Matt to lead her away from her lab and into the small adjoining room to it. By the time her head hit the pillow, she was completely out.

Matt watched her for a few seconds before tucking the blanket comfortably around her tiny body. She snuggled further in with a tired sigh, a stubborn frown on her forehead. He took off her glasses, placing them on the night stand and bent over to brush a lock of hair from her eyes. He kissed her cheek, a swell of brotherly pride and affection washing over him and went to keep his promise.

#

Their rendezvous point was a small moon orbit where the Blade's temporary base of operations was located. The spacecraft was malleable enough to accommodate the essential number of members required to follow on Kolivan's instructions before heading to their hidden headquarters and spread out through the galaxy.

Keith entered the makeshift debriefing room with his head hung in dissatisfaction before he was almost tackled down by a pair of strong arms around him.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" Krolia asked him worryingly as she looked him up and down, her eyes wide in concern and motherly affection.

"Mum, I'm fine," he replied with a quick smile at her concern. It warmed his heart to have someone care so much for him after spending most of his childhood alone. "I'm not hurt."

"Keith," Kolivan called from behind them, his tall and imposing presence filling the room as he entered. His tone when he spoke was neutral yet demanding as always though Keith thought he had caught a hint of relief in them. "Did you get it?"

"I did," Keith said pushing reluctantly away from his mother and retrieving the hard-disk from his pocket. He handed it to Kolivan who still observed him attentively. "I uploaded the virus corrupting the Galra data. I hope it'll give us enough time to find anything useful in there."

Kolivan gave him a firm nod before giving the hard-disk to a masked member who rapidly sat down in front of a computer and downloaded the information Keith had gathered. She typed away quickly, the computer beeping and bleeping occasionally.

"Kolivan," she then called in a worried tone, her voice altered by her Blade mask. Keith never questioned why some preferred to keep their identity secret but respected their decision. She pointed at the computer, a swift tremble in her hand. "Look at this."

The three of them approached the computer. On the screen were the blueprints of each Lion of Voltron, carefully illustrated to even the tiniest detail of it. But there was something different about these Lions; on their chests' was what Keith recognised as Haggar's spell circles, designed to enhance her dark magical quintessence. His stomach dropped at the sight of them.

"It can't be," Krolia stated what they were all thinking.

Keith felt sick, his legs wobbling and almost not supporting his weight as those deadly and wicked circles burst to life on the Lion's chests and engulfed them in pure dark energy, consuming them and transforming them into a terrifying version of themselves. Their eyes were dark purple and unnervingly malign. They opened their jaws to silently roar and spewed a beam similar to that of the Zaiforge cannons.

"Is Brildux building a new Voltron?" Krolia asked in a strain tone.

"He can't," Keith replied though doubting his words as he kept staring at the data he had stolen from the Galra. "Not without a trans-reality comet. He must be planning on stealing Voltron and do whatever this is to it."

"That's Haggar's magic," Kolivan commented as the animation played yet again. He looked at Keith, the same incomprehension he felt flashing in his yellow eyes.

"She perished with Allura," Keith replied shaking his head in puzzlement. "Maybe it's the druids. We never found them all; some still managed to escape after Zarkon's fall."

"They are weaker without Haggar's power," Kolivan stated undoubtedly.

Keith remembered Kolivan being held captive by one of the witch's druids, Macidus and he was sure Kolivan felt the weight of his fellow Blade members' death at the druid's hand in his heart. He had made one of his main purposes to find and capture every single druid but unfortunately, they had managed to elude him and escape.

"Wait, I think I got something else," the Blade member said through her mask as she kept typing furiously at the computer.

She pressed a button and a planet appeared, rotating around a bright star as a positioning system seemed to lock onto something.

"Is that Earth?" he asked finally recognising the solar system, his solar system and his home planet, a red dot blinking somewhere in the Caribbean.

"Why would Brildux go to Earth?" Krolia asked next to him and slowly a wave of panic begun to churn in Keith's stomach. He felt his breath catch in his throat at the sudden realisation that overcame him.

_Lance!_   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dum DUN!!!!!
> 
> I have to apologise in advance for Chapter 6!! 
> 
> Just remember I love Klance with all my heart, body and soul 💜


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the infamous chapter I've warned you about on Chapter 5. It's one of the first chapters where you'll hate me and I will totally understand. I hated myself while writing them.  
> But, positive thinking: the suffering is only temporary (for how long, now that's another story 🤔😋)  
> And it's a rather long one so, buckle up!
> 
> Hope you'll enjoy 🤗

It was a little after dawn when Lance finally arrived to the address on the card Hedrick had left on the table for him. It was a small cottage hidden from the main road, remote and isolated enough to allow some quiet privacy. The shrubbery was sufficiently high to conceal it and the morning dew and mist gave it a peculiar aspect.

Lance stared at the cottage and mustered as much courage as he could. He had come this far to back out now, even if he wasn’t so sure about his decision anymore. His uncertainties were once again beginning to override his previous resolve and all of his doubts came crushing down on him.

He had been so confident when he had spoken to his parents about his final decision, when he said goodbye to his family, watching them cry in silent pride that had overwhelmed him. Their support was all he needed to know he had made the right call.

But now that he stood only a few feet away from changing his life, Lance was having second thoughts.

“Come on man, you can this,” Lance said to himself as he took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders, cracking his knuckles and adjusting his backpack. “You’re Lancey Lance, you got this.”

He clenched his jaw and resolutely walked up to the porch, his feet crunching the gravel and taking him closer to his destiny. He didn’t allow his hesitation to overthrow his resolve anymore.

_Well, here goes nothing,_ he thought knocking at the door.

“Mr Hedrick? It’s Lance,” he said.

A clamour came from within as Lance waited outside, balancing on his heels and with his hands on his pockets, his backpack swaying. The lock finally clicked and the door opened only a smidge, a dazed Hedrick peeking out and widening his eyes in a nervous surprise.

“You came,” he said a little too crestfallen, a contrast to his insistence the day before.   
Hedrick then opened the door wide and stood aside to allow Lance in.

He stepped through the threshold and looked around; the house was completely empty apart from a table next to the door and a chair where he placed his backpack. It was also cold inside; a coldness that swept through Lance in a gush of trepidation.

This looked like an abandoned house.

Hedrick closed the door plunging them into dimness, the light of the dawn streaming in through a window. Lance’s eyes adjusted to the poor lighting as he noticed the curved staircase before him.

He unexpectedly felt uneasy. Something in the back of his mind screamed in a portentous warning.

_Something’s wrong,_ he thought to himself.

“Lance,” Hedrick called in a small and trembling voice and Lance spun around to face the man. He was horribly shaking, his ashen skin almost wraithlike in the dimness. It was unsettling. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”

“What are you talking about?” Lance asked beginning to feel his chest compress in fear at the old man’s tone. “Sorry for what?”

Hedrick looked down, his fingers fidgeting. When he spoke, his voice was almost a wail, a sound that froze Lance’s blood. _Okay, something is definitely wrong,_ he thought.

“For what I’m about to do to you.” Hedrick replied in a sob.

Lance heard footsteps behind him and whirled around quickly. His heart skipped a threatening beat when he saw the Galra nonchalantly leaning against the wooden balustrade, a knife in his hand and an impish smirk on his lips. He was stroking the knife’s blade, his yellow eyes boring into Lance’s blue ones in a pleased menace.

He had been right and his worst fears came true. Now he wished he had heeded his uncertainties before being in this situation but now it was too late.

“You kept your promise Hedrick,” Vakten said amusedly. “You brought me the blue paladin. Brildux will be pleased.”

“What do you want?” Lance asked Vakten, his fists and jaw clenched as his body begun to buzz with an unwavering adrenaline. In the dimness he could distinguish a scar on the Galra’s temple and his pointy teeth flashed in a wicked sneer.

Vakten pulled indifferently away from the staircase and strode towards him, deliberately slow and provocative. He circled Lance, looking him up and down with a satisfied expression on his face.

“You possess something my brother needs,” he replied sinisterly. “Something that the new Emperor has been wanting for a long time and I’m here to finally get it for him.”

“Well, if it’s my good looks, you’re in no luck.” Lance remarked mockingly. “Sorry pal, but _this_ is good genetics with a dash of Cuban luck. Which you clearly don’t have.”

Vakten snarled impatiently as he unexpectedly towered over Lance, the knife dangerously looming over the skin of his cheek, the poor light of the dawn reflecting in its blade and blinking in his eyes. Lance could almost feel the coldness of the blade and swallowed in dry but didn’t dare to look away from the Galra, fiercely glowering back at him and showing no signs of fear, even if he felt it within.

“You think this is a joke?” Vakten asked in a threatening undertone. “I could easily slit your throat and bathe you in your own blood.”

“They say it’s good for the skin,” Lance replied sardonically.

Hedrick, however, didn’t find it funny and whimpered in the corner, his trembling figure almost one with the portentous shadows of the cottage. He seemed to be in silent pain, his hands over his ears and rocking back and forth.

“Fortunate for you,” the Galra continued ignoring Lance’s remarks, pushing away from him and giving him that menacing smirk again that showed his fangs, “my brother has other plans that require you to be breathing. So, I’d advice you to come with me willing and quietly.”

“Sorry, I’m not interested in a field trip,” Lance shrugged his shoulders indifferently and Hedrick’s breath caught in his throat.

Lance was being reckless, he knew it; but he wouldn’t let the Galra take him away or take the best of him without putting up a fight and have a little bit of fun in the meantime.

Vakten simply looked at him, his yellow eyes expressionless and thoughtful. Before Lance had time to consider what he might be planning; the Galra lunged forward and attacked him. Lance barely had time to dive out of the way before Vakten attacked him again, his knife swishing in the air like a lethal musical instrument.

Lance knew he was no match for the Galra, unarmed and untrained in fighting as he was but he still managed to pick up his backpack and throw it at him hitting him square in the face, punch him in the stomach, connect his knuckles with his jaw and make him holler in frustration.

He grinned as the Galra wiped the blood from his lip, his eyes angry, fuming and dangerous. He charged at Lance once again with a snarl and this time he did manage to make the blue paladin scream in pain.

The knife was plunged into Lance’s right thigh, a white hot pain gushing through his body and Lance screamed in agony. He tried to move but the pain was too much, his breathing coming out in ragged puffs of pants and gasps. He fell to the floor, his hands clenching his leg and his blood soaking his jeans.

“Lance,” Hedrick called in panic kneeling next to him but not daring to touch him. He looked at Vakten exasperated, his voice nothing more than a scared wail. “This wasn’t the deal Vakten. You said you wouldn’t hurt him.”

“He left me no choice,” Vakten retorted severely, the knife still dripping Lance’s blood to the ground. “He’ll live.”

“You bastard…” Lance managed to say through gritted teeth sweat sticking his hair to his forehead in cold shivers.

“Well, it’s true; I am,” Vakten observed distractedly before focusing once again on the blue paladin, his yellow eyes now hard and cold. “You belong to the Galra now and you’ll do exactly as I say.”

“Fuck you,” Lance snapped angrily as Hedrick helped him up, the pain in his thigh agonising.

He was trembling from the exertion and was beginning to feel his limbs loose their strength again. He supported himself on the staircase balustrade, the cold of the wood contrasting with his now feverish skin.

Lance looked at Vakten through slit eyes and spit his next words furiously, “And fuck your brother.”

Vakten’s rage was visible; his jaw clenched dangerously Lance could hear his teeth grinding; his fists clasped the hilt of the knife so tight his knuckles popped and his eyes turned a threatening darker shade of yellow.

“You’ll regret your words,” he snapped back spitefully.

The Galra seized Hedrick by the collar of his uniform and forcefully pulled the old man to him. Hedrick’s shrieks of shocked panic were soon drowned by the gurgling sound of his throat being slit open and by Lance’s own howls of rage.

It was like watching a slow-motion scene where Hedrick’s eyes widened in a startled surprise and his body slowly slumped unceremoniously to the ground right at Vakten’s feet. The Galra looked delightfully pleased with his killing.

Lance tried to reach the old man but the pain was excruciating and he almost lost balance. He grabbed the balustrade tightly and couldn’t take his eyes off the gruesome scene. Hedrick’s body gave one last spasm before it went limp, his blood beginning to pool around him and soaking his uniform and hair.

Vakten words had been true; he did slit someone’s throat and let them bathe in their blood. Lance gagged and almost threw up.

“You’re a monster,” Lance managed to murmured in an aggrieved fury as his eyes blurred with hot tears. “There was no need to kill him. He was an innocent man.”

“He was no such thing,” Vakten said. “For the past few months he has been feeding the Galra with information; crucial information. How do you think Brildux knew which planets were more vulnerable to attack? Or how I could find _you?”_

“What do you want from me?” Lance asked hoarsely, his throat dry and raw despite his tears.

Vakten smirked teasingly. “You’ll know soon enough.”

The Galra approached Lance and stamped on his injured thigh, the pain overwhelming his senses and choking him in a scream that soon died out. He lost consciousness, drifting into a distressing lethargy.

The last thing Lance thought before he blacked out was to call out one simple name; a name that he hoped would cross the universe and would save him.

_Keith!_

#

"Keith?"

Keith ignored his mother calling him as he fastened his belt, arranging the sheath of his blade comfortably around his waist.

He knew what she was going to say, knew that she would try to convince him to take another plan of action. But he was too far gone in his perpetual fear for Lance to heed her words.

She wouldn’t understand, couldn’t possibly understand how emotionally consuming it was for him not to be able to contact Lance.

If he had just been able to hear his voice, to know he was safe and sound, maybe he wouldn’t have this dagger in his chest slowly piercing his heart.

He had tried to contact Lance, believing he didn’t want to speak with him because of their argument last time they had met but still hoping. Then he tried his family who claimed he had left for the Garrison. The Garrison was completely clueless about his whereabouts and even after Keith basically ordered them to scan all CCTV for face recognition, their results had been null.

By the time Krolia stepped in to put a stop to Keith’s rampage, he had already made up his mind and his determination scorched like molten lava.

“Keith!” Krolia called again, this time commandingly.

Keith exhaled in frustration, leaning his head back and staring at the ceiling, his hands on his disorganised rucksack clenched and trembling.

Cosmo whined next to him, his eyes puzzled at his reaction.

He heard his mother approach him, her footsteps cautious. He heard her sighed resignedly and felt a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“I have to find him mum,” he muttered, his voice wavering. “You won’t stop me from doing this.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Krolia replied compassionately and Keith’s throat constricted. She squeezed her hand on his shoulder considerately and made him turn to her. Her eyes bore into his in their purple kindness and Keith read her affection there.

“I know how much he means to you Keith. And I know you’ve been hurting ever since you came back from Earth. You try to hide it by volunteering to all these dangerous missions, the rush of danger numbing the heartache. But I see it in your eyes how much you miss and how much you care for him.”

Keith tried to regulate his breathing as Krolia stared at him. She always managed to see beyond the fake persona he had constructed to keep his feeling secured; the insensible and indifferent Keith who scowled all the time, the loner.

“I… I _love_ him.” Keith admitted with an ironic chuckle choking his next words. “Who would have thought that I would fall for the annoying, stupid and flirty Lance?”

Keith didn’t exactly know when his feelings for Lance shifted. When he realised that what he felt wasn’t merely comradeship, he had tried to ignore it and push it aside, not allowing whatever it was that he felt to distract him and lead him astray of his main purpose.

But he knew when he had realised he was in love with Lance; on the day when the Black Lion chose him as its paladin and Lance accepted him as their leader. That was the day when Keith welcomed his feelings, accepted them for what they really were and never once regretted loving Lance.

He still remembered Lance’s words of encouragement to him, how he had looked Keith in the eye, those pristine blue eyes, and planted all his trust in him, his supposed rival.

The memory was now bittersweet to Keith, a flitting moment in time from when he once believed in the impossible and in miracles.

“We don’t choose who we love,” Krolia said placing a lock of Keith’s hair behind his ear. “All we can do is learn how to turn that sentiment into something worthwhile. Sometimes we have to grieve for love to finally find the light at the end of tunnel and relish in it.”

“Is that how you felt about dad?” Keith asked curious, his throat raspy from his unshed tears.

“And you,” she replied caressing his cheek, his scar with affection. “Leaving you two was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my life. I needed to protect you, to make sure the Galra never picked up the Blue Lion's signature and invaded Earth. Of course most of my efforts were futile since you ended up as a paladin of Voltron.”

Krolia chuckled lightly which lessened only part of Keith’s initial trepidation. The swirl of fear was still clenching his insides but his impulsiveness was gradually subsiding into a calmer resolve.

“I know you have to go,” Krolia continued glancing at him worryingly. “I would never stop you from saving one of your paladins, whether it’d be Lance or not. And as the leader of Voltron, I know you have a special bond with all of them. But I want you to promise me you’ll be safe.”

“You know I can’t promise that,” Keith replied to which Krolia gave him a puzzled look before chuckling lightly, understanding his words. “If it were you, you wouldn’t promise the same, would you?”

“I guess I wouldn’t,” she answered. "But I'd try."

"I promise I'll try then," Keith said giving her a tight smile; one that he knew didn’t entirely convey all of his gratitude and appreciation but would reassure her.

She embraced him firmly, stronger than when he returned from his mission earlier. Only this time Keith didn’t mind being crushed by his mother.

He returned the hug, lingering on her arms for a little longer for he didn’t know what the future held, didn’t know if this would be the last time he would see her. He tried not to think about it.

Cosmo’s tail brushed his arm and Keith and Krolia pulled apart. Keith stared at the yellow eyes of his space wolf. He was taller than him by only a few inches, which was already higher than any average person. Cosmo's presence normally intimidated those who weren’t familiar with him but his cuteness made up for it.

Keith patted his blue fur, his fingers trailing his teal mane and feeling his heart beat steadily, a soft sound of contentment leaving his lips.

“Take care of each other while I'm gone,” he told his mother and Cosmo. When Cosmo cocked his head to the side in a questioning manner, Keith hugged his neck affectionately.

Keith entered his shuttlecraft as Krolia _and_ Cosmo watched him from the hangar. He noticed Kolivan in the shadows, a silent indulgence in his yellow eyes as he gave Keith a small curt nod of understanding. Keith saluted his Blade leader with respect and admiration before turning on his heel and preparing his flight back to Earth.

As he sat down before the controls and the embedded system kick-started, Keith allowed his weary breath to fog his helmet, closing his eyes tight as he gathered all his strength into one single whisper that he muttered in the solitude of his cockpit, hoping it’d travel through space and reached Lance.

_Hang on Lance, I'm coming._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY!! SORRY!!
> 
> I'm so sorry about the whole "Lance-being-attacked-and-captured-by-the-galra" thing. But if you've been paying attention to the hints and foreshadowing I've been leaving, it was obviously coming.
> 
> Also, the second part of the chapter with Keith and Krolia was pretty much added at the very last minute - one of the reasons why it took me a while to update. 
> 
> Their exchange pretty much popped into my head out of nowhere and I thought it was a nice way to have a little bit more of Krolia, to add Cosmo which I had forgotten (slapping myself) and also for Keith to say goodbye to the Blade for the time being - don't worry, the Blade will still appear in the story (and maybe the lesbian squad will too with Acxa 😉)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter where you guys are going to hate me. 
> 
> Trust me, this is only the beginning of what I have planned so buckle up for more torture, pain and simply more angst for I'm not stopping anytime soon.

Shiro woke up with a distant jarring noise penetrating his reverie, his personal communication system buzzing in the other room. A familiar weight stirred in his arms and Curtis lifted his head from Shiro's chest yawning.

"What's going on?" Curtis mumbled still sleepy, his eyes barely open.

"It's nothing, don't worry. Go back to sleep," Shiro said pressing a quick kiss on his husband's forehead and standing up from the bed, his body weary.

Curtis yawned again and instantaneously fell asleep again, a soft snore leaving his lips. Shiro could never bring himself to wake him up when he looked so peaceful.

He closed the bedroom room behind him and hurriedly approached his datapad on the table. He was slightly somnolent, whatever nightmare he was having fading into the mist of oblivion though a headache lingered on his temples.

Shiro made sure Curtis was still asleep before he turned his full attention to the pad, a voice in the back of his head quietly mumbling in anxiety. He hesitantly conceded the communication.

"Shiro!" Keith's voice came in urgently.

"Keith?" Shiro's sleepiness dissipated instantly the moment Keith's troubled face appeared on his screen. He was wearing his dark Blade uniform and appeared to be in some kind of craft. Shiro was immediately alert by Keith's worried expression. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"It's Lance," Keith replied wretchedly, his dark blue-grey eyes wide and frantic with affliction. "I think he's in trouble."

"What? How? What happened?" Shiro asked tightening his robotic hand, his heart giving a loud thud inside his chest. The voice in his head was almost deafening with anxiety.

"I don't know; I can't find him anywhere," Keith said with a slight tremor to his voice. "I'm on my way back to Earth now. It'll take me a few hours to get there."

"Do you think he's in danger?" Shiro asked fearing for his fellow paladin and friend.

"I don't know," Keith whispered disconsolately, his eyes cast down as his jaw clenched in silent exasperation.

Shiro knew perfectly well Keith's feelings towards Lance, knew how he had kept them secret from everyone and how it gradually consumed him. He had witnessed the slow dejection dim the sparkle in his blue-grey eyes and how he silently suffered with Lance's grief.

He didn't need Keith to admit his feeling for Lance for he recognised them - they were the same as his when he had found out that Adam had died, his heart broken at the feeling of guilt that had burned in his chest.

"I'll gather a team and we'll be-"

"No!" Keith cut him lifting his eyes back to Shiro in apprehension. "You're needed in the Atlas. It'll be easier and faster if I'm on my own. I just need you to do something for me."

Shiro stared at his adoptive brother through the screen and tried to read his expression.

Though Keith always tried to hide his vulnerable side, Shiro knew him well enough to recognise the panic slowly building up and cracking his perseverance. But the raw determination was still there, hot and firm. That was the same determination that had led Keith to find him and save his life when Haggar had cloned him.

That determination, or stubbornness, was forever marked on Keith's face, a reminder of what they could have lost.

Because of that, Shiro knew that Keith would cross the galaxy and fight an entire fleet of Galra on his own for Lance. He'd do it for anyone but for Lance, he'd burn out a sun if he had to.

He heaved a resigned sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose as he gave into Keith's words, knowing perfectly well there was no point discussing further. "Fine! What do you want me to do?"

"I've gather some disturbing information on my last mission for the Blade," Keith began. "Brildux is planning to do something to Voltron, to the Lions with some kind of dark quintessence magic or whatever."

"What?"

"Krolia and Kolivan will tell you everything about it when they're safe enough to meet you. They should be contacting you very soon."

"How is that possible?" Shiro asked, his mind flashing with images of his previous encounter with Haggar and the druids' magic.

"We're not sure yet," Keith replied. "But Shiro, whatever it is that they're planning to do to Voltron, it requires a massive amount of energy, bigger than the Komar."

"But it's impossible," Shiro commented weakly, slumping down on a chair and placing a hand on his forehead. "There's no-one powerful enough to use dark quintessence since Haggar."

"Whoever it is must have found a way to enhance its powers," Keith said. "That's why I need you to go to New Altea and try to find a way to learn as much as we can about whatever this thing is. Coran might be able to help us understand what this dark magic is."

"What about Hunk and Pidge?" Shiro asked to which Keith looked to the side, thoughtful. "They need to know what's going on Keith. We can't keep them in the dark."

"Then tell them whatever you want," Keith retorted. "My priority right now is finding Lance. If he's in trouble, I need to save him."

"Keith, it could be a trap to lure you in," Shiro stated sombrely, concern clenching his insides.

"I know," Keith replied not meeting his eyes. "But I have to do this. I have to."

"Just... be safe out there," Shiro then said transmitting as much encouragement as he could.

"I'll be careful, don't worry. This isn't my first rodeo," Keith smirked gloomily at him, his eyes darkening at some inner thought.

Shiro swallowed in dry. He recognised that dangerous smirk; that was his Galra side preparing to taste the coppery tang of blood. He feared for the unfortunate soul that would have to deal with Keith in his enraged form. His clone version, Kuron, came face to face with a only mild bloodthirsty Galra Keith for a brief second and only survived because Keith loved Shiro too much to let go.

"Keith," Shiro called, his brother's eyes glancing at him in their dark shade of blue-grey. "You'll find him; I know you will."

"I hope so," Keith gave him a quick sad smile before severing communications.

Shiro stared down at the ground, his head between his hands and let a ragged breath out of his lungs. He wasn't sure if he could keep the false pretence of being in control anymore; the weight of all the lives he cared about was once again pulling him down beyond his strength.

"Shiro? Hon?" Curtis voice came from the bedroom, drowsy and alarmed.

"Be right back," Shiro called back.

This was the reason he needed to be strong, needed to resilient; because of the people he loved. He needed to be the leader he once was, to have that hope of achieving peace thriving through him without obstacles.

If not for him, then for Curtis, for his family, friends and for the universe.

#

Lance didn't know how long he had been out, his mind fuzzy and throbbing as he tried to pry his eyes open.

He squinted faintly at the poor light that hurt his eyes. All he could distinguish through his blurred vision were dark walls all around him. He groaned in pain and blinked in the purple light, each blink adjusting his eyes to the raw and cruel reality of his surroundings and for a moment nothing made sense to him.

_Where the heck am I?_

He tried to move but a terrible flood of pain in his thigh almost knocked him out of his senses again.

All of a sudden his memory came rushing back and he gritted his teeth to stop himself from crying out loud. Even his lowest whispers reverberated on what he supposed was a prison cell.

He remembered being ambushed by a Galra and remembered the bastard stabbing his leg. He remembered the horrible sight of Hedrick's throat being slit open and thought he could still smell the blood in the dank claustrophobic air of the cell.

His heart clenched so tight in his chest it even pained him to breathe.

He was completely awake from his lethargy now. His hands were tied in front of him, the metal of the handcuffs cold and heavy and biting at his wrists. These weren't electronic cuffs but the typical old-fashioned shackles that rattled when he moved. Someone had crudely bandaged his thigh, his blood soaking the fabric.

With great effort he managed to sit down against the wall and finally take a good look around. He was in a small bare cubicle with no windows but a small one at the door. He was too drained to stand up and peeked outside. The sconces on the walls provided the only illumination in tones of purple and it was even worse than being plunged in darkness.

Lance rested his head against the wall and considered his situation.

Well, there wasn't much to think actually: he had been captured by the Galra and was now locked in a cell.

The Galra who had captured him had said something about Lance having something Brildux wanted.

 _Well, jokes on you mate because I_   _have nothing,_ Lance thought bitterly with a weak smile.

He wondered where he was exactly. Was he on a Galra cruiser? On a planet? Perhaps he was still on Earth?

There was no way for him to know. All he could do was waiting for someone to come to him so he could nag the answers out of them.

A feverish shiver ran down his spine and whenever he moved, hot pain shot from his injured leg. He felt weak and on the brink of passing out again. The shadows the purple light cast seemed to play tricks in his mind for he thought he distinguished shapes dancing on the walls, jumping from the walls to the floor and slithering their way to him.

Lance must have dozed off for he was startled awake by the strident screech of the door and by heavy footsteps entering. He felt strong hands lifting him up from the ground by his jacket, tried to complain but only an incomprehensible mumble came out.

He managed to open his eyes a slit and was face to face with the Galra that had captured him.

"Oh, not you again," he grumbled raspingly, his words hurting his parched throat.

"Not so hilarious now, are you?" the Galra teased with an impish smirk.

"So you admit I'm hilarious then?" Lance teased back through his feverish daze.

Vakten gritted his teeth and snarled at him. He looked so terrifying, murder flashing in his yellow eyes and for a moment Lance actually feared for his life.

"Vakten!" someone called firmly from outside the prison cell and Vakten's expression shifted from murderous to frustration. He tossed Lance against the wall where he rapidly secured his hands on a hoop, the shackles rattling loudly in the emptiness of the cell.

Lance's thigh burned with pain but he hid it from Vakten, not giving him the satisfaction of showing any sign of pain.

A tall shrouded figure then entered the cell, his face covered by his hood though his posture was haughty and assertive. Darkness emanated from him in waves of despaired hopelessness and Lance felt as if icy hands were touching the very core of his soul freezing it.

The stranger approached him unhurriedly, his head tilted to the side as he examined Lance through the shadows of his hood. He stopped a few feet before Lance.

 _Who the heck is this guy now?_ Lance thought, feeling observed.

"So, this is the blue paladin," he remarked indifferently. "I expected someone a little bit more... _intimidating."_

"Hey," Lance retorted offended. "I'm intimidating enough. You just caught me in a bad day. Release me and I'll show you intimidation."

The figure laughed without humour, a sound that was both portentous and disturbing. It sounded like the screech of vultures and it raised the hairs of Lance's neck, a cold dread lodging on his chest.

Then it stopped; the quietness that lingered for only a few brief seconds strained and filled with unspoken terror.

"Where is it?" the hooded man asked in a demanding low whisper.

"Where is what?" Lance asked confused and slightly frightened. He would be lying if he didn't admit to himself being terrified of the situation he was in. Vakten's jaw clenched and Lance could see the desire for blood in his Galra eyes.

"Where is Voltron?" the figure asked again increasing his tone in exasperation.

"How the hell should I know?" Lance shrugged his shoulders.

"You will tell us where Voltron is," Vakten said threatening, "or I'll rip it out of you."

"Now, now Vakten," the hooded man soothed down, lifting a hand from his cloak. Lance noticed that he wasn't Galra; his skin was pale and marked by reddish tattoos. "There are other ways to persuade him to talk."

"Seriously, didn't you guys get the memo? I have no idea where Voltron is," Lance contested. "No-one does. You're wasting your time with me."

The cloaked man scoffed at his words, a scathing quality underlying his sneer that was aggressive. "I have means that'll persuade you to speak."

A spark of lightning flickered on the man's hand until it became a crackling ball of energy. Electricity crackled like thunder with twirling currents of purple and black magic.

Fear swept over Lance as he gulped in shock. That magic, he recognised it but it couldn't be. He swallowed in dry and faced the hooded figure, trying not to show his sudden flow of panic.

"Do I need to say it in another language until you get it?" Lance persisted without showing any fear. "No sé dónde está Voltron, entiendes?"

The ball of light sparkled dangerously as it grew with the man's impatience. Lance looked back and forth between them. He had only a second to prepare himself for the inevitable outcome of his torture, shrinking within himself and biting his lips not to scream.

Ripples of electricity coursed through him in surges of endless agony. It felt like tiny shards of glass rushing through his veins, tiny needles piercing every inch of his body and icy cold water shattering his vitality.

He tasted blood on his tongue and felt a streak of hot liquid down his wrists; he had bitten his lips and dug his nails so hard on his palms they were bleeding.

Then the electrocution stopped and he felt his body slump slightly forward, his legs wanting to give in. But the shackles kept him up in place and his arms burnt with the exertion of supporting his weight. He no longer felt the pain in his thigh; he was too numb to feel anything but the shudder of electricity that occasionally fizzled through him.

"Shall I ask again?" the cloaked man asked quietly though threatening, his tone amused at the torment he was causing.

Lance managed to lift his head only a little and spat the blood choking him at the man before him. He didn't even know he had it in him to be so thoughtlessly bold in the face of torture and danger but there it was.

His boldness had consequences though; Vakten grunted and struck him so hard Lance hit his head on the wall. His vision blacked out and he was drifting in that limbo between consciousness and unconsciousness, in and out of awareness. He heard the Galra and the stranger speak between themselves.

"His stubbornness is beginning to annoy me," Vakten said in a possessive mumble. "His perseverance will be his undoing if he doesn't cooperate and Brildux won't be happy about it."

"Don't worry Vakten," the other replied in an impassive tenor. "I have my own ways to make him tell us where Voltron is. It might just hurt and damage him a little."

"Careful now Haldax," Vakten warned spitefully. "You're job is to make the paladin tell us the location of the Lions, not to kill him in the process."

"When I'm done with him, he'll wish he had died in the process."

The man chuckled wickedly fading into a disturbed ominous echo inside Lance's mind as he finally wandered further off into an obscure oblivious filled with never-ending terrors he couldn't escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, I'm not exactly happy how the 1st part of this chapter turned out. I wanted an exchange between Shiro and Keith about Lance but I feel that something is missing though I can't put my finger on. 
> 
> As for the 2nd part, I didn't enjoy writing the mild torture but I barely had to edit it - I loved how it turned out straight away.  
> However, I did add a small detail that is slightly important in learning who Haldax truly is... it's not related to the show but this story 😋


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for all the small kangst I'm going to inflict but I couldn't help myself.
> 
> Anyway, happy reading 😋

Keith landed his ship on an isolated area near the blinking dot in his locator, the signal weakening. He felt like he was going to pass out restless and anxious as he was; all his nerves tight.

Once outside, he took lungsful of the Cuban fresh air to try and control his racing heart and to calm his distressed temper but nothing seemed to soothe him. He couldn't dispel that disturbing sensation in his gut that almost threw him into a downward of uneasiness. He knew that something was wrong, could almost predict it and it was driving him insane.

He basically sprinted through the deserted road, the night falling rapidly and casting oblong and long shadows before him as he ran. The exertion of the run helped ease some of the rousing fear and turn it into electrifying adrenaline which he welcomed gladly.

He reached his destination and stopped to catch his breath, looking around his surroundings. There was a cluster of undergrowth tall enough for him to hide and he stealthily became one with the shadows.

He sneaked a look through the shrubbery and was surprised to see such an ordinary thing as a simple cottage, its presence eerie in the twilight. He scanned it, noticing the darkness dwelling inside and the lack of security. It appeared to be empty, forsaken in the road.

He took his blade from his sheath and tightened his grip on its hilt, prudently leaving his hiding place and taking cautious steps towards the cottage. His eyes roamed every single crook, corner, window and shadow around him, his ears perked up to any strange sound. The gravel beneath his feet crunched under his weight, a cloud of dust picking up with each of his footsteps and swirling away with the breeze.

He didn't relax his stance, didn't allow himself to lower his guard until he reached the front door opened wide and his eyes fell on an immobile figure slumped on the ground.

His breathing caught in his throat as his heart stopped momentarily and his blood froze within his veins.

"No!" he croaked chokingly. He secured himself against the threshold, his eyes watering with the surge of unexplainable excruciating emotions that assaulted every inch of him. He felt like the floor was taken under him.

The smell of copper and something foul filled his nostrils and he almost gagged, coughing as he took a tentative step forward, his feet squishing over something rather sticky. He approached the body, a dark pool of blood staining the wooden floor.

Keith was trembling, his entire body as fragile and tense as an elastic pulled too hard. But as he warily crouched down, his initial horror turned to confusion and a slight wave of relief overwhelmed him.

_It'_ _s not him,_ Keith thought capable of breathing again.

But his relief was only temporary as he studied the dead body before him. That face was familiar, a distant memory of his time at the Garrison flashing before him and he finally recognised him.

"Commander Hedrick?" he whispered confused.

Keith remembered the always gentlemanly and courteous old man from his days as a cadet before he was kicked out of the Garrison. He had been a cheerful man, perhaps too cheerful, who the war too that spark away from. Keith knew he had taken over Iverson and was aware of his accomplishments in helping the Galactic Coalition after the war.

What was he doing in Cuba? And what had happened?

Seeing him now, drowned in his own blood, his throat slipped open and his once brown eyes lifeless was an appalling vision that would haunt him. He gently closed the old man's blank eyes and bowed his head in silent respect.

He feebly stood up and looked around the blooded scenario. The shadows placated only faintly the horrifying image of the sickening yellowish paleness of the body and the crimson of the blood staining the floor. He walked around the cottage entrance, the poor light of the twilight beginning to fade and plunge him into darkness.

He surveyed his surroundings with his heart ringing in his ears. Near the door, concealed by the rapidly approaching night was something else casually lying on the floor. Keith advanced towards it and immediately recognised it. It was a backpack; _Lance's_ backpack.

_Lance! He was here,_ he thought panicky, picking up the only piece of evidence of Lance's whereabouts.

He was trembling so much his fingers were almost clumsy as he zipped open the backpack and began rummaging through it. Lance had packed clothes, books, his beauty products, headphones and some photos.

Keith went to door and used the remaining light of the day to look at the photos. He went rapidly through them; there were photos of his family, Keith recognising the extensive family beaming happily at the camera; his nephew and niece, his siblings and his parents, all waving at the camera. There was a photo of him and Allura, the both of them smiling serenely – their first date.

Keith felt a pang in his heart, different from his usual ache and longing for Lance. His eyes filled with silent tears as Keith leaned against the threshold and collapsed to the ground, crying in complete powerlessness.

He allowed the tears he had been holding to finally flow freely in the seclusion of the abandoned cottage.

He felt helpless, hopeless and despairing. His heart was aching so badly it sent ripples of pain throughout his whole body. Nothing was safe from his pain. The emptiness inside him was so devastating and excruciating he could barely breathe. He was drowning in his own misery and it was quickly overwhelming his entire senses.

A weak beep startled Keith awake from his self induced pity. He wiped the tears as he looked around, trying to pinpoint the location of the sound. In the silence of the dark, the beep came again, this time louder and closer and Keith looked down at the backpack at his feet.

He quickly rummaged through Lance's stuff again. On one of the side pockets of the bag Keith found what appeared to be a datapad. It beeped in Keith's hands, a warning sign of weak battery flashing on its screen. He touched the screen hesitantly and the datapad came to life, a recording starting out of nowhere and taking him by surprise.

Static noise crackled and then a trembling voice filled with fear muttered random numbers like a mantra. Keith recognised the croak and ragged accent, Hedrick's tone completely different from the composed one he was familiar with.

"0012.05.27.0026.07.03, 0012.05.27...," Hedrick whispered frantically as if he was trying to memorise the numbers.

"These are coordinates," Keith commented to himself as a wave of diligence swept through him.

He heard the numbers again, his lips moving with Hedrick's weak continual muttering until he had memorised them before the pad turned off in his hands, the battery dead.

Keith rose on his wobbly legs, his chest raising and falling with mixed emotions that varied between hope and desperateness.

He picked up Lance's backpack and put it on his shoulder and then looked down at Hedrick's body.

He couldn't just leave him there like that, alone in an abandoned cottage in a country that wasn't his. But he also couldn't waste more time; Lance could be in grave danger and if something were to happen to him, Keith would never forgive himself.

"I'll make sure they find you," Keith told the body, saluting before he ran out of the cottage, the backpack swinging in his backs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you go, want to let you know I've decided to change something on how I publish my chapters.   
> You might have noticed I normally write two scenes per chapter, right? I don't know why I do it; just do.   
> So, what I've decided is that I will divide the chapters so I'll have more material to upload and also not to have a lot of things in one particular chapter.
> 
> Now, seriously guys, you have no idea how hard it was for me to decide how to go about this chapter. So, I truly hope you'll like it for I re-wrote and re-edited it so many times until I had a good enough chapter for you. 
> 
> Thank you for reading 😘.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I'm super excited about this chapter because it's from a different character's perspective and I absolutely LOVED writing about him.
> 
> Don't know who I'm talking about?   
> Then proceed with the chapter and happy reading 😋

Hunk hummed merrily as he peeked inside the oven, the smell of the freshly baked Krecea nut bonbons with a dash of Xulledilla cream watering his mouth in hunger and craving. He moaned in delight as his nostrils flared almost tasting the syrupy aroma, his heart filling with that relaxing reprieve baking always provided him.

_BANG!_

A loud bang disconcerted him. Hunk turned around to see Romelle on the floor rubbing her head, a soft cry of pain forming on her lips as she grimaced. Several sized baking pans were scattered around her and Hunk didn't even need to ask what had happened; Romelle's humiliated blush spoke louder than the scene before him.

"Quiznak to this quiznaking thing," Romelle cursed.

"Hum, Romelle," Hunk began clasping his hands and sighing, mustering as much patience as he could for this wasn't the first time something like this had happened. "I appreciate the help but you're not actually helping at all right now."

"Sorry," she said standing up clumsily and embarrassed, throwing her hands in the air exasperated. "I just wanted to be useful while I'm here. And you said I could learn."

"You're gonna learn it one day, I know you will; you just have to give it some time," Hunk retorted standing protectively in front of the oven as if Romelle's presence could, somehow, deflate his hard work like a collapsed soufflé. "Besides, you're too distracted today. You've mixed salt instead of sugar and used cheese instead of butter - a crime against culinary, but I'll let it pass - remember?"

"Oh, yeah! I guess you're right," Romelle agreed as she pouted lightly sitting down on one of the high stools. "Ugh, I feel utterly useless."

"You're not useless," Hunk told her sympathetically as he placed some of the already cooled bonbons on a plate. "You're just tired and that's completely normal. After all you're only... _well,_ not human but close to it."

Romelle let a weary sigh out.

Hunk felt sorry for her; Romelle had been appointed by Coran as the Altean representative in the Galactic Coalition and had been pretty much unstoppable, travelling throughout galaxies in humanitarian and ambassadorial missions with Hunk for the past five months.

She had an astute talent at mollifying peoples' consternations caused by the upsurge of the Spectral Death's attacks and in transmitting a certain composed passivity that had surprised him.

He recognised how much she had grown and how much she had matured since Keith and Krolia found her colony.

But he could also see how exhausted she was, how she longed to return to New Altea and reconnect with her people, to finally take in all those ancient stories she grew up listening to about the planet and its lore. Hunk knew she felt lonely and tired, missing her family.

Hell, even _he_ felt lonely and tired.

Hunk carefully dipped a small quantity of the Xulledilla cream on top of the bonbons and then clicked his tongue appraisingly before taking a step back to observe his work, a broad smile illuminating his face.

"Damn that looks tasty," he commented pleased with himself. "Hunk, you outdid yourself yet again. Oh why, thank you sir, I do try."

"Why are you talking to yourself?" Romelle asked puzzled and Hunk blushed shrugging his shoulders.

"Hey, wanna get some of these to Pidge?" Hunk asked bumping against Romelle's shoulder with a diverted smirk. "She normally yells at me for bringing food to her lab. But _these;_ oh man, even she can't say no to these yummy bad-boys."

Romelle smiled at him and immediately stood up, the cadence he was so accustomed to see in her shining back in her purple eyes. Even her cheeks seemed rosier at the prospect of something entertaining to do.

Together they crossed the Garrison to Pidge's lab. Romelle chatted animatedly about some alien race she had met on one of her humanitarian missions that walked upside-down. Hunk listened attentively, his wonder at the actual existence of aliens still a little strange and surreal to him but an always surprisingly revelation he revelled at.

 _What a_   _great time to be alive,_ he thought to himself.

They soon reached the lab and Romelle knocked lightly on the door.

"Pidge?" she called in a lively tone.

"Unless you have a continuum transdimensional configuration transistor or a space-time quantum compressor, keep moving!" Pidge's voice came from the other side and Romelle raised a confused eyebrow at Hunk.

"Nope," Hunk said to the door. "But I do have some nut bonbons with cream that'll make your scientific mind go _puff..._ quark-nova mind-blow. Or maybe go just mind-blow; quark-nova is quite a violent explosion resulting from the conversion of a neutron star to a quark star... I mean... you get it."

They heard a loud exasperated exhale, what seemed like a grunt or quiet mumble, the scrape of a chair and heavy footsteps approaching the door.

"It works everytime," Hunk commented with a pleased grin. "She can't resist my baking even though she keeps denying it. I call it a gift."

Pidge opened the door and Romelle took a cautionary step back at her appearance with a soft gasp. Pidge was a complete chaos; her hair was in a messy bun that she secured with a pen; she was pale and with purple circles under her eyes and had a mad expression creasing her eyebrows.

"Give me that," Pidge said taking the plate from Hunk quite brusquely and returning to her chair unceremoniously.

"So, how's the Voltron thingamajig going?" Hunk asked as he and Romelle entered the lab, the latter hesitant.

If Pidge looked a complete mess, then her lab had been victim of a hurricane; every single surface was occupied with papers, books, gadgets, tools; several screens displayed frequency waves, others showed the stars, mathematical inductions and constants. Holograms flickers with even more scientific stuff Romelle eyed completely perplexed.

"I thought I had found a clue to the Lion's signature," Pidge began with her mouth full as she pointed to her laptop, the screen showing a variety of waves and signals "but it just disappeared. I'm trying to recreate it but I can't seem to find what triggered it in the first place."

"Have you tried to use one of the parabolic reflectors with a broader ionop...?" Hunk's words faded as Pidge glared at him condescendingly. Hunk swallowed and shook his head. "What am I saying? Stupid me; of course you have."

"What's this?" Romelle asked pointing to a device wired to the computer. She stretched her hand to touch it but Pidge slapped her hand abruptly.

"Ouch!"

"Don't touch it," Pidge charged possessively. Romelle recoiled startled by Pidge's reaction and took two steps aside so as not to be near the gadget and protected behind Hunk. "That's the Voltron Geiger I'm working on. It's a delicate instrument."

"Why is it blinking though?" Romelle asked staring at the device confused, an eyebrow raised.

"It's what?" Hunk came near Romelle and looked over her shoulder to the tracker. "Oh! Look at that; can't even see the numbers."

"What?"

Pidge turned her attention to the device, the little screen blinking as numbers scrolled so fast no-one could decipher a single one. She went to her computer where a bleeping sound suddenly ran franticly and typed expertly away on her keyboards, her lips pursed and her brows creased into a puzzled frown.

"What is it?" Romelle asked hesitantly approaching Pidge with Hunk, both staring at the screen as it scanned charts and star maps and whatnot.

"The tracker is going crazy," Pidge replied agitatedly going from her laptop to the Geiger, from the Geiger to another holographic screen, always clicking and typing as her face contorted in pure confusion which, to Hunk, was not a good sign.

"Did it find Voltron?" Hunk asked anxiously looking at the screen and trying to understand its mathematical logic.

"I don't know," Pidge replied a little harsher than normal. "It's just going frantic. I can't isolate the signal; it's all over the place."

"Try to override it with an indexer," Hunk suggested.

"I've tried; it's not working," Pidge grunted in response to which Hunk frowned. "Wait, maybe I can polymorph the caching system and bypass the proxy by using an encapsulating structure."

"What language is she speaking?" Romelle asked Hunk in a low whisper as she observed Pidge agitatedly typing.

Hunk glanced at her and shrugged his shoulders. "Definitely not English; sometimes not even I can understand half of what she's saying. I call it _nerdnacular._ Get it? Cuz it's _nerd_ with _vernacular?_ I just chan-"

"I can hear you, Hunk" Pidge cut loudly through a tense exhaled. Then the beeping stopped leaving behind only the lingering echo of its strident noise. Pidge looked up at her computer and threw her hands in the air, exasperated and frustrated. "No, no, no, no, no!"

"What is it Pidge?" Hunk asked, in his chest a feeling of utter impotence at his friend's reaction.

"I've lost the signal again," she replied aggravated. "This is exactly what happened the other night only this time it was different."

"Different how?" Romelle enquired confused clasping her hands, her purple eyes wide and fearful.

"Almost as if it had detected something that had overloaded the high-frequency waves in a nonlinear signal processing identification messing the algorithm of the data compression which didn't channel the coding instead giving a sequence of discrete time-space points-"

"Wow there Pidge," Hunk cut raising his hands as Romelle shook her head in complete perplexity. "Take a deep breath, calm down; not even I understood half of what you said right now. Your _nerdnacular_ is all over the place."

 _"Hunk,"_ Pidge called seriously, her eyes gleaming with something Hunk couldn't identify; it was a mixture between some kind of fear and optimism, two things he never thought could see being related in such frantic manner. "Do you know what this means?"

"Hum, no?" Hunk replied looking at her tentatively.

"It means that my Voltron Geiger picked up something," Pidge said with a broad smile, one that lit her eyes in such a way that coloured her cheeks with emotion.

"Wait, you're saying you finally found Voltron?" Hunk asked slowly, that same emotion of hopefulness beginning to churn in his stomach.

"Well, I haven't found it, _yet,"_ Pidge added rapidly looking away from Hunk in a timid pout. "I still have to establish an interpolation variable to triangulate the source of the overloading system. But there was definitely a massive amount of energy out there for the tracker to go haywire."

"But it's not continuous, is it?" Romelle observed looking at the Voltron Geiger. Pidge and Hunk snapped their heads to her puzzled and Romelle looked from one to the other and shrugged her shoulders, her cheeks blushing lightly. "What?"

"What did you say?" Hunk asked approaching Pidge's laptop and typing, Pidge's efforts to stop him completely futile as he pushed her aside.

"That it's not continuous. It's a sporadic signal," Romelle repeated uncertainly, one eyebrow rising in incomprehension.

"Romelle, you're a genius," Hunk commented as his heart pumped with quiet adrenaline at the prospect of finally finding Voltron. "You said the tracker went off the other night and then again just now."

"Hunk, what are you doing?" Pidge asked clenching her fists as Hunk ignored her.

"What if something is triggering the signals at spaced moments?" Hunk continued, his mind reeling with ideas and theories and hypothesis. This must be what Pidge feels like all the time, he thought to himself. "By using a decoupling capacitor we might be able to shunt those voltage spikes to a simple supply receiver and ground it to a radio-frequency stabiliser."

"That..." Pidge thought for a moment before continuing. _"That_ might actually work. Hunk, you might be onto something there."

"Seriously, what kind of language are you two yelmores speaking?" Romelle asked behind them.

"I've told you, _nerdnacular,"_ Hunk replied looking over his shoulder with a quick smile.

Suddenly there was a crackle and a distorted voice sounded through Pidge's laptop speakers. Hunk's face broke into a smile as he recognised it before Pidge clicked on her electronic pad and a small window emerged on her screen.

"Pidge?"

"Oh, hi Shiro," Hunk said waving at the video transmission.

"Hey Shiro, what's up?" Pidge also asked the moment Shiro's face appeared on the screen.

"Oh good, you're both there," Shiro said looking from one to the other, his voice dropping as his face deflated, an aggravated expression shadowing his grey eyes. Hunk rapidly noticed that something wasn't right. Shiro was tense and worried and Hunk's heart begun to loose altitude, his previous merriment fading into a puzzled pout. "Something's up."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, some of the things in this chapter are completely made up: sci-fi and science are basically gibberish to me so I tried to make the science sound at least understandable or believable enough. Let me know if I failed.
> 
> I also hope you had liked Hunk and Romelle. I missed them so I decided to add them to sort of have a break in all the drama 😋


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 10 is here 🎊🎉
> 
> I'm so sorry but this chapter will be about Lirranne. She'll play a fundamental part in this story so I need to give her some attention as well.
> 
> I'm also kind of surveying the market to see what your reactions are to a certain future ship I might, or might not, pursue in future chapters 😉
> 
> Happy reading 😊

Lirranne wasn’t supposed to be there but the door had been unlocked and unsupervised and she needed some seclusion from the curious glances and whispers that followed her pretty much everywhere.

After wandering aimlessly for what felt like hours, she had finally found a hidden spot in one of the Atlas conference rooms, the grand window overseeing the immensity of space offering her the isolation she coveted. She was hidden by the oval table at the centre of the room, the perfect place for her to contemplate the situation she was in.

In the semi-darkness of the room, she sat down on the floor with her knees up to her chest and stared out to the millions of stars outside and heaved a weary sigh.

This was the first time since escaping Ilnaria that she was utterly alone; in the medical bay she always had someone fussing over her, checking her pulse and temperature and making sure her wound to the side was clean and healing – which to their surprise, healed quite quickly leaving only a pink scar. When it wasn’t the doctors, it was another crewmember asking endless questions about Ilnarian weapons and the Galra attack and everything she could remember that could have some kind of value to them.

When she finally had clearance to leave her bed, Lirranne disappeared so she could finally mourn all those lives lost when her planet was destroyed.

The Ilnarians had a funeral rite they used to practise in honour of the fallen; whenever a person died, they would light up a lantern and let it drift down the pristine waters of the Magtona River until it reached the Coriden Waterfall and soared high up until it became one with the stars above the emerald valleys.

Lirranne herself had lit up two of those lanterns for her family when she was thirteen, softly signing the funeral song of her people as she bid her last farewell to her parents. She had been alone that day, no brother to hold her hand and project happy thoughts into her wrecked grief.

And now, she was once again alone mourning for the people she had lost.

She couldn’t reverence them with her traditional customs so she stared at the stars outside and whispered the final serenade of goodbye as her tears fell down, her throat constricted at the irrefutable prospect the she would never see them, would never see home again.

She would never _be_ home again.

As her lips trembled at the words she sang softly, she felt homesick, alone and lost.

What was she to do now? Where was she supposed to go? Her people, the ones who managed to escape the destruction of their planet, were somewhere scattered throughout the universe and she didn’t even know where to start looking for them.

Did they find refuge in one of the neighbouring systems? What if they didn’t make it out? What if they didn’t even escape the Galra and were captured?

 _Or worse?_ she thought sickly.

The more she thought about it, the more tormented she felt. Her heart ached with every soul she had witnessed perish at the hands of the Galra and she wept unashamedly, letting her anguish out before it consumed her into a hopelessness she couldn’t return from.

Unexpectedly, the door to the room opened and closed with a loud whooshing _thunk_ and Lirranne jerked awake from her melancholy startled, wiping the tears rapidly away as footsteps seemed to approach her hiding place.

“Oh, I guess someone else found my hiding spot,” a voice said behind her and Lirranne forced a mask of composure as she looked at her intruder. She recognised the young man as one of the pilots; she had seen him stroll around the ship jokingly talking with Shiro and other crewmembers. He glanced at her quickly before pointing to the grand window that occupied the entire wall. “Pretty neat, isn’t it? It took me about three months to unlock the security system and Kinkade had to help me with it.”

  
“Three months?” she asked perplexed. She had looked at the system and found it easy enough to break if she had to. “I’d unlock it in three hours.”

“Humph,” he looked at her doubtfully. “Mind if I join you?”

Lirranne shrugged her shoulders and gestured for him to sit down. He grumbled as he slumped down next to her, his brown bangs falling to his eyes which he rapidly pushed away with a satisfied sigh.

“Ah, finally; peace and quiet,” he muttered.

“You often hide here?” Lirranne asked as the young man extended his legs before him and leaned back, his eyes closed.

“I come here to get away from the daily commotion,” he replied. “And also to get away from the rest of my team.”

Lirranne felt her lips curl into a smile at his words. Silence fell between them in a comfortable manner, the only sound the continuous hum of the Atlas engines and the occasional footsteps outside the conference room. She didn’t feel as if her privacy had been compromised by this stranger.

On the contrary; his confidence was actually comforting.

She studied him curiously from the corner of her eye; he was wearing the typical orange uniform everyone in the Atlas seemed to wear with two golden stripes on his shoulders; his brown hair was swooping and with one-sided bangs. She couldn’t distinguish the colour of his eyes in the weak light but they had seemed vivid. He had a satisfied lopsided grin and a soft crease between his eyebrows.

“Checking me out?” he asked amused suddenly opening his eyes and catching Lirranne staring.

Her cheeks warmed up in a flush and she felt slightly embarrassed at being caught staring. Still, she raised her eyebrows at his bold assurance and scoffed. “Who are you exactly?”

“I’m Lieutenant James Griffin, MFE pilot,” he replied sitting cross-legged and extending his hand towards her. She looked at it and then back at James without understanding the gesture to which he chuckled lightly diverted. “It’s a human custom when we new meet people; we shake hands.”

“That’s a weird custom,” Lirranne observed before hesitantly clasping his hand which he shook twice before beaming at her and letting it go. She returned the smile. “I’m Lirranne.”

“Oh, so you’re the girl who stole a Galra ship, aren’t you?” James asked interested and Lirranne felt a wave of discomfiture wash over her.

“Guess I am,” she replied unhappily.

“I’m sorry about what happened to your planet,” he said, his words ringing true and sincere and Lirranne’s heart gave a somersault of yearning for her planet.

“Thank you,” she managed to croak with a sad smile at him.

Her emotions shifted back from a curious interest in the human to her inner turmoil of homesickness and she tightened her arms around her knees.

“I often come here to gaze at the stars,” he told her staring out of the window in contemplation. “There’s something quite comforting and soothing in stargazing, you know? As if each tiny flickering point is a heartbeat, a soul thriving in the vastness of space, millions of light-years away yet it feels as if you can almost reach and touch it. Even though it makes me feel utterly insignificant, it also makes me feel… I don’t know…”

 _“Blessed?”_ Lirranne offered.

“Yes, I guess that’s the word,” James reacted nodding with his head.

She understood what he meant perfectly. For her people, the souls of the dead become the stars above and their once prosperous essence becomes the breath of a brand new life.

“Back in my planet, Ilnaria,” Lirranne said after a few seconds of cherished silence, “we used to believe the souls of the departed stayed with us as long as the stars shone brightly in the sky. We would often gaze at them and pray to the Moon God and Goddess to watch over them. My mother used to tell me that our dead reincarnated as brand new stars filled with new life. I guess that’s the reason why I became a pilot; to reach the stars.”

James didn’t reply whether out of regard for the loss she transmitted in her voice or because he didn’t know what to say; she didn’t know and didn’t ask. But the silence that befell them was filled with mutual respect.

Lirranne lost track of time; they had remained in the seclusion of darkness until James cleared his throat and moved, this time leaning his back against the window and facing at her, his lips pursed and his arms crossed over his chest. A stubborn lock of hair had fallen once again to his eyes.

“What do they mean?” he asked pointing with his head towards her.

“What, my markings?” James nodded. Lirranne looked at her tattooed hands and touched the ones in her face. “They’re a sort of ritual of passage, faith and trust every Ilnarian goes through. Once you reach fifteen, you’re challenged to what we called The Rite; it’s a variety of trials to test your endurance and perseverance. They are sacred blessings of a true Ilnarian.”

“What happened if someone failed the challenges?” James enquired.

Lirranne chuckled lightly amused. “No-one ever failed; at least that I know of. It was merely a tradition that reminded us of a simpler time before Zarkon. You could choose not to go through The Rite and have the markings; you wouldn’t be less of an Ilnarian because of it.”

“Why did you choose to have them then?”

“Because of my family,” Lirranne replied and stretched her legs before her, pains and needles coursing through them as sensation returned to her numb limbs. She grimaced at the uncomfortable impression, rubbing them. “They would have wanted me to keep the tradition alive so… I did it for them.”

“Hey dude, you there?” someone called from the door and Lirranne was once again startled by an intruder to her inner peace.

James heaved a tired sigh as he lifted his hand. “Yes Kinkade? I’m here. What is it?”

“Shiro wants to talk to us,” Kinkade said.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” James replied jadedly and Lirranne peeked over her shoulder and under the oval table set in the middle of the room, the feet of the other pilot marching away before the door closed.

“One of the teammates you come here to get away from?” Lirranne asked jokingly and James laughed lightly.

“He’s the true pain in my ass,” James remarked as he stood up and ran a hand through his hair. “Duty calls. You’re staying?”

“For a little longer,”

James began advancing to the door but halted and turned back to Lirranne, a bewildered expression in his face.

“It was… nice meeting you,” he said hesitantly as if those words were new to him.

“Thanks for letting me crash in your hideout,” Lirranne replied with a warm sensation surging through her and nestling in her cheeks.

“You’re welcome anytime,” James responded, waving his hand in a gesture of salute and left the room.

Lirranne couldn’t help but smile as she returned her attention to the stars outside the window. James had helped alleviate the burden of her past even if for a few minutes.

The grief still remained lodged in that hole it created, patiently lurking until she was vulnerable. But as she continued humming the funeral song of her people, she found out she could still find that silver lining in the dark even when she wasn’t expecting it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... can I ship them?
> 
> I want James to have a bit of a redemption sort of arc since he was such a bully to Keith and was kind of a jerk in the last seasons.  
> What say you?
> 
> Also, did you pay attention to Lirranne's description and stuff? They have hints concerning something else in this story.  
> Kudos for the 1st person to get it 😉
> 
> Thank you all for reading ❤


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, not only did she *FINALLY* update after promising it for so long, she's also giving you more langst!!!
> 
> Like I've said before, it'll take a while for me to stop torturing Lance. I need him to suffer a little before being valiantly rescued by Keith... if he gets rescued at all!
> 
> No spoilers!!!
> 
> But this chapter has just a small important thing that will be explored further along the road so keep your eyes open 😉
> 
> Happy reading 😊

Lance groaned in quiet pain as he sluggishly returned to reality. Every single inch of his body was dormant and sore. His shoulders were strained from hanging above his head and supporting his dead weight, his legs burning at the exertion of keeping him up. His wounded thigh screamed in agony which only made the rest of his pain even more deafening in comparison.

He was weak, his mind fuzzy as he lifted his head every so faintly to look around.

In the corner of his prison cell stood the cloaked figure of Haldax, his backs turned to him. He had his hood down and Lance took notice of the man’s strawberry long hair neatly tied on a low ponytail.

“You’re finally awake,” Haldax whispered without turning, amusement coating his coldblooded tone.

_“Unfortunately,”_ Lance replied mockingly in a hoarse voice, the words rasping in his throat.

Haldax chuckled wickedly without humour, the sound once again reminding Lance of vultures screeching. The man proceeded to cover his head, his tattooed hands deliberate and careful.

“Shall we continue our conversation?”

“Hum, I’d rather not,” Lance reacted blandly. “I didn’t quite enjoy our last conversation if you’d ask me.”

Haldax finally turned to him, his face once again hidden in the gloom of his hood. Lance somehow could feel him smirking mischievously within the darkness. “Your bantering will get you absolutely nowhere. So, shall we begin?”

“Wait… what?” Lance looked at him startled and fearful, a growing sense of danger ringing loudly in his ears. He knew his reckless teasing was only a way for him to superimpose his perpetual fear but this time he felt horrified of what could be coming. “Begin what?”

Haldax laughed again malevolently bringing his hand up. Sparks of some kind of liquid-like dark energy began sizzling through his fingertips, a substance that whirled in silent waves of dread. This wasn’t like the electric orb he had conjured before but something that twisted Lance’s insides.

The air in the cubicle turned icy cold, fingerless wisps of ominous horror rushing through his spine and lodging in the pit of his gut.

“This will only hurt a little,” Haldax said darkly as he took a step towards Lance.

“What are you doing?“ Lance fought against his restrains as Haldax loomed over him, the darkness emanating from him portentous and deadly. He extended his hand, his magic hissing menacingly. “No, no, no-“

Lance’s struggle was abruptly cut short by his scream reverberating through the cubicle, loud and unbearable, the echo of excruciating pain. His entire body jolted and spasmed, his backs arching against the wall as he gripped the shackles tightly to keep himself grounded. Haldax’s touch was icy cold and scorching hot at the same time, his palm pressing on his forehead hard as his long fingers grabbed his head forcefully to secure him in place.

“Stop fighting it, it’ll only get worse,” Haldax whispered malignly at his ear and a stronger surge of energy coursed through Lance.

Lance’s reality begun to fade alongside his strength and he was tumbling down a vast emptiness of freezing darkness. Haldax’s distant whispers lulled him into a chaotic state of unconsciousness, his mind revolving inside itself as it searched for safe ground.

_Tell me where the Lions are,_ a voice crooned intimidatingly all around him and within him.

_I don’t know,_ he replied, not sure if he had actually said the words or if they were inside his mind. He wasn’t sure about anything anymore. Darkness ruled and fear reigned and Lance was just a mere puppet in his own tormented delusion.

There was a blaze of agony in his forehead as if hands were crushing his skull and trying to dig inside his brain. Lance tried to scream but found out he was choking, his hands clawing at his throat.

_Please, please,_ he thought desperately. Tears fell down his bulging eyes as Lance tried to feebly kick the air to fight whatever invisible force was choking him. He felt life gradually slip away from him, convulsions involuntarily overtaking his muscles as he gulped for air. _Please!_ He never once believed in seeing stars until his visions began sparkling with tiny lights in the absolute darkness.

Then the invisible hands let go off him and he collapsed as if gravity in the vast emptiness went off and Lance sprawled on something hard, coughing as he tried to fill his lungs with delicious air.

_The Lions,_ the voice pressed on, this time sounding angrier and impatient than before.

_I_ … _don’t… know…,_ Lance panted out. He was on all four, his vision slowly clearing but seeing nothing. His heart was pounding in his ears and throat, his limbs weak as he tried to stand. Lance felt his own weight give in and fell again scraping his elbow.

_Lance! Lance!_

_Allura?_ he tried to call, his throat still constricted and he coughed again, wheezing as his chest hurt.

The pain in his head persisted, solider and heavier than before and prevailing. He held his head between his hands, grinding his teeth as a new assault delved further into his brain.

Images of his past flashed before his eyes; imagines of his family and friends, of his adventures as a paladin, of both his Lions and of Voltron. Allura. Keith. Shiro. Pidge. Hunk. Coran. Their faces raced through his mind, their absence like a rock in his stomach.

Allura. Keith. Shiro. Pidge. Hunk. Coran. Keith. K…

The tug in his head pulled every single string of his memories apart, digging deeper and deeper into his most intimate feelings. He felt exposed and vulnerable. His heart clenched with each memory that was discarded unceremoniously. He felt the salty tears of despair falling down his cheeks.

Stop! Lance cried trying to gather each face close to him but feeling them slip away from him. Allura. Shiro. Pidge. Hunk. Coran. His family. Veronica. Allura. Keith…. Keith… _Keith…_

He was about to explode, the desolation within him unbearable. Lance clenched his fists and pushed his head back as he let out a loud and piercing scream to tear him apart. It echoed deafeningly around him, the pressure in his head snapping back and retreating abruptly. A sharp hiss shattered the darkness around him and Lance felt his body fall forward, the shackles securing him from falling to the ground.

Haldax recoiled, another high-pitched hiss breaking the ominous quietness of the prison cell and he withdrew his hand from Lance’s forehead as if he had been burnt.

Lance felt exhausted, weak and completely devoid of any emotion apart from the aching throb in his head and pressure in his chest.

“You win this round paladin,” Haldax snarled through gritted teeth as he spun on his heels and rapidly left the cell, the door screeching shut loudly in Lance’s ears.

Drained and beat as he was, Lance didn’t even notice the bluish light that illuminated part of the cell, his Altean marks shining with his deepest emotions of anguish. His head fell to his chest and Lance welcomed the stupor that befell him.

#

Somewhere in the remote corners of the galaxy, millions and millions of light-years away, something stirred in the vast expanse of space concealed by a beautiful nebula. The kaleidoscope of colours formed a silhouette, curled on itself and swaying faintly with tiny sparkles of stars.

A flash of yellow woke with a loud roar that echoed thunderously all around. It was in pain, excruciating pain. But it couldn’t move, locked into the nebula’s life-force. Another pair of yellow eyes growled sympathetically, sharing the pain through a silent bond that connected them profoundly.

All they could do was continue to roar as the nebula slowly poured its own energy into them, painstakingly slowly like the death of a star.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I'll torture Lance like, twice or thrice from now on!! Our poor Sharpshooter needs his rest after all this ordeal.
> 
> I'd like to know if you guys have any theories so far about what's going on, what's going to happen. Share them with me and I might give you a hint whether you're in the right direction or not 😉
> 
> Thanks for reading ❤


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